Sea'scape Two
by kamelion
Summary: continuation of Sea'scape. The problems continue back on the station. RR please, it really does help! NOW COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_He was screaming inside. No one had the right to feel such utter terror; it went against any aspect of the mind, or human nature, to suffer to the extreme, to feel the icy chill of death grip and squeeze the life force from the body. To feel cold panic, to know that you are going to explode at any minute, and to know that there is nothing to be done. Time for regrets battles with the need for preparation. Thoughts of the past drift through, and you realize this will be the last time you remember them. The present, the now, never before seemed so stark and threatening. You are vastly aware of absolutely everything as you fight to take it all in, one last time; every sight, color, smell, feeling, memory, sensation, every breath. You want with every fiber of your being to be given the chance to hang on just a few more moments, because dammit, you can't die, you don't want to die, you refuse. And that last moment comes, when the darkness beckons, and you realize in agony that the reaper has won. . ._

_"McKay, whatcha got down there?" _

The voice over Doctor Rodney McKay's headset sounded tiny, even though their radios were of the most advanced kind, and even though the area he was in was completely deserted of people and sound. It was practically deserted of light as well. This wasn't the first time McKay had been in the bowels of the station, it was the second. And of course the only person at liberty to accompany him was Adrienne Powers, who was short, cute, and totally unavailable, and therefore totally irritating. She was the latest victim of an unfortunate relationship boom that seemed to be robbing him of much needed overtime research assistants. It wasn't that he didn't have a life himself, like some had suggested, it was that there was a lot of work that needed to be done, and too many repairs to be made. Why the title of repair man had fallen upon his intellectual being was beyond him, but he was constantly running from one end of the station to the other, just because he understood the complexities of the alien machinery they worked with. Lately it was leaving little time for him to do his real job, never mind sleep. He gave his earpiece a quick, annoyed tap. "What I have, Major, is a dark room, an absent assistant, and little patience! Why isn't Yarborough down here? He's the tech! Why am I down here trying to reassemble a power grid?"

_"Where's Powers?"_

"Would you believe she had to go to the little girl's room?"

There was a hesitation, at which time Rodney yanked his hand away from a slight zap in the mechanism.

_"I suppose that's a valid reason for leaving."_

"She does it far too often." Rodney squinted at the diagnostic on his display. "She's like a little puppy running off every hour to go wet in the corner. I would have been better down here by myself, not babysitting a twenty-two year old with unusual bladder dysfunctions."

_"You probably scare the piss out of her."_

"If only I could be so lucky." He snapped the panel closed. "Try it now, Major."

There was another hesitation. _"Yeah, that's good Rodney. What'd ya do?"_

"I performed a process too infinitesimally insignificant to mention."

_"You spliced a wire, didn't you?"_

"Of course I spliced a wire! Good god, Karnnac's ten-year-old daughter could have done this! Why the hell I was sent here? I have very important work to do, Major, what the hell was going on in your brain to ask me to do this?"

_"Actually, I wanted you to check something out for me."_

"What?"

_"She really goes to the bathroom every hour? Even that far inside the station?"_

Rodney gaped at nothing. "Are you serious? Are you fuckin' serious? You sent me down here to see if she'd. . .what the hell?"

_"Well, that and the power grid needed repair."_

"You could have rerouted!"

_"And miss this?"_

Rodney's eyes couldn't burn through Sheppard, so the angry gaze attacked a spot in the ceiling above him. "That does it! You officially suck!"

_"Only if I'm lucky."_

"I hate you with a passion I can hardly describe."

_"That's a bit unusual for you, isn't it? Besides, blame Michaels. He put me up to it."_

"What, her boyfriend?"

_"Yep. He's been curious about something, apparently she's showing some signs but won't go to see our good Dr. Beckett."_

"Signs of what?"

_"You're the brains of the outfit. Think about it. What's a good reason for having to pee a lot?"_

"Seeing you in the corridor?"

_"Funny. Try again."_

"I don't know. . .excessive pressure on the bladder. . ."

_"Caused by. . ."_

"What am I, a gynecologist?"

_"She's got cravings too."_

"Good for her."

_"Come on, Rodney, of all people you can't be that obtuse."_

Rodney rolled his eyes. "I'll take that in the spirit intended."

There was a significant pause. _"Figure it out yet?"_

"Oh good god, fine." The comment was a flung gauntlet, and he couldn't refuse. "Food cravings, pees like a newborn. . .oh." Rodney straightened from digging in his bag and blinked at the wall. "OH!"

_"Sounds like the light just came on."_

"She can't be! What the hell was she thinking? Doesn't she realize there's work to be done?"

_"I'm hoping the process required little thought. Might ought to ease up on her workload."_

"Oh, right, that's just great. Bring it on, people, I've got all the time in the world, I'll just do everyone's job, why don't I? Huh? Not like I have my own job to do, I swear, it's like being on a one man mission to Atlantis! It's 'Rodney this' and 'Rodney that'. That's okay. When I collapse from a nervous breakdown you'll all be sorry. You'll see. You'll weep."

_"Trust me, I'm weeping now. Powers has been contacted to report back to the lab. You're done Rodney, you can get back to your important stuff." _

"That'll be the day," Rodney grumbled, tapping his radio off, then stooped to gather his tools. He held the flashlight between his teeth as he worked, and when he heard the footsteps, the jerk of his head set the light in the direction of the sound. He allowed it to drop to his hand, keeping the beam on the dark corridor to his right. "Powers? I thought they contacted you. . .never mind. Grab this, will you?" He stood and held out a bag, waiting for her petite form to emerge from the shadows, but it never did. "Come on, I don't have all day. Powers? You there?" Uncertainty found his face, and he lowered the bag while once again raising his light. "Powers?" He tapped his radio. "Major?"

_"Yes, Rodney?"_ The voice was patient.

"You detect any life signs other than mine down here?"

_"Uh. . .that's a negative. What's up?"_

"Are you sure? I heard something down here."

_"Nothing's showing. Maybe you're just hearing things."_

"Well, of course I'm hearing things, that's what I wanted you to check out!" Annoyed, he turned back to his belongings when another noise made him whip around, his eyes wide. "There, there, you hear it that time?"

_"No, I just hear you, Rodney."_ The voice was finally showing a thread of concern. _"You okay down there?"_

"Run a scan again." He expected a retort, but instead there was a pause.

_"Nothing. Why don't you come on back up?"_

"Yeah, I think I'll do that." His light scanned the area, and found nothing. So he turned.

And screamed.

John Sheppard tore the radio from his ear, and just as quickly replaced it. "Rodney? Rodney, what's going on?" He looked at Johnson, who was manning the terminal next to him, but the young man shook his head. "Rodney, I'm coming, hang on!" He pointed to two nearby military personnel who were on guard, and the three of them launched through the doors while the major barked orders over his tiny microphone. With weapons drawn, they ran down the corridors and down into the lower levels of the station. He skidded to a stop as his radio clicked. "You there?"

_"Major?"_the voice squeaked. _"Get your ass down here, and bring guns!"_

"What did you see?"

_"God it was. . .I've never seen anything like that. . .it reached right for me. . ."_ Rodney's breath was rushed.

"What's your location?"

_"I'm headed towards research lab C. . ."_

"That's in the new level?" John was already signaling his people to backtrack into an elevator.

_"Yeah it's. . .oh god. . ."_

"Rodney?"

_"It's here, it followed me. . .I can feel it. . ."_

"What is, what do you see?" John flew out of the elevator and ran down the hall, steadying his microphone with one hand. There was no response. "Rodney?"

_". . .behind me. . ."_

"Stay where you are, we're almost there!"

This time the scream didn't sound over his radio, but down the hall before him. He skidded around the corner and nearly tripped over a curled figure. He bent down.

Rodney was hunched over his knees. His wide eyes stared at Sheppard's for several moments before registering the face. "Major?" The voice was small.

John didn't know what to say to the man. He'd never seen Rodney so taken aback, so afraid, and he hated to think what real or imaginary scene drove the scientist to such a state. "Spread out," he muttered to his men, "see if you can track this thing down." He tapped his earpiece. "Johnson?"

_"Yes, sir?"_

"You get any unusual life readings?"

_"Nothing here, Major, I've been scanning constantly since Dr. McKay first reported hearing something."_

"Keep looking. And page Beckett down here." John set his weapon down as he knelt right in front of Rodney, his troubled eyes surveying his friend. "Hey. You with me?"

Eyes darted to him, then to a space behind him. He was searching for something. "Yeah, okay."

"Beckett's coming."

"No needles."

Sheppard almost smiled. "I can't promise that. You want to tell me what you saw?" His tone was careful, like talking to a child that just woke from a nightmare.

It was all due to the terror on Rodney's face. John had never seen such a reaction, the fear twisting Rodney's features into a grotesque mask. He had no idea how to cope with it, other than to baby the scientist until he felt more himself.

Rodney looked left and right, popping a glance over Sheppard's shoulder while wringing his hands. It was several moments more before he spoke. "You didn't see it, did you?" He frowned and looked away. "I didn't either. I mean, I sensed it. . .and it was so dark and cold and. . . brittle. God, it was awful. It scared me." He swallowed after this admission, and the fact that it came so easily worried John even more. Nothing more was said until Beckett's arrival, which consequently resulted in McKay spending the day in the infirmary under observation for shock.

"I think it's stress," was Dr. Beckett's final diagnosis.

"What do you mean, stress?" Sheppard was less than happy with this answer. "You didn't see the man's face, Carson. He looked like he jumped out of his body and left his skin behind."

"I did see him, Major, I was there. Or did you forget that already?" Carson wasn't happy with the dismissal of his diagnosis. "Look, I've run every test I know. Everything is normal, except that he needs to sleep. I doubt he's slept in days, and with what you two went through with the submarine and that underwater city, I can easily see his nightmares taking form in waking hours."

"So you're saying he dreamt this?"

"I'm saying he needs to sleep, Major. He needs to recuperate. He's on pins and needles enough with the Wraith coming, and with everything else that has happened. . .I'm about ready to drug him to sleep, and I'm ready to ask Dr. Weir's permission in doing it." He glanced back at Rodney, who was staring patiently at the ceiling, his fingers threaded across his chest, his thumbs rubbing together. "As far as I can tell, he's suffering from REM sleep deprivation. That combined with not eating properly, which affects hypoglycemia, can cause waking dreams real enough to scare your grandmother out of her grave. His body is screaming for rest, and he's not allowing it."

John nodded, glancing over Beckett's shoulder at the man who was now flagging down a nurse. "He did mention having nightmares when he tried to sleep. This was when I found him in his lab around 4am, as the earth crow flies. He dismissed it, though."

"Well, he can't dismiss it for much longer. Och, now what is the man doing?" Beckett walked to the bed and argued with the scientist for a moment, which resulted in a Rodney power-sulk. Beckett rejoined Sheppard, his amusement barely hidden. For all the annoyance, he really did like Rodney McKay. "He wants jello. Says if he has to lay there, he's entitled to some."

"Did you tell him he can have some after he wakes from his nap?"

"If Dr. Weir okays it, and I'm right willing to bet she will, I'll let him have his jello, and eat it too." Beckett smiled. "Then it's lights out."

"Will you stick the needle in his ass?"

"Major!"

"Can't a man hope?"

"Don't you think he's been through enough?"

Sheppard considered it. "No?"

"Outta my sight, you bannock. I'll keep you informed."


	2. Chapter 2

His sleep was deep. Dreams tumbled through Rodney's exhausted mind, starting one thread then drifting into another, and another. People from his past rarely showed, but the people of Atlantis were there, making bombs and filling the walls with green gelatin. At one point Kavanagh handed him a card and told him thanks but no thanks, that his services were now rendered useless. Which led to him walking the halls in disbelief.

But one part was very real, and it happened as his dream self entered his room and crawled underneath the covers, curling into a ball on his side. He felt a soft arm fold over his, the flesh sweet smelling and familiar. He turned his head, and there she was.

She smiled and sat up, gently rolling him over onto his back. He was unable to speak, or to move, he could only gasp as she straddled him and lightly ran her fingers over his chest. She leaned down, and her fiery hair trailed over his skin, soft as feathers, sending chills to places he'd forgotten about. "I've missed you," she whispered, but he couldn't respond.

She blew the fine hairs on his chest, fingered his nipples, let her hand slowly drift down, down, as he caught his breath and held it, until she was stroking his inner thigh. Slowly she lowered herself onto him, covering him, breathing into him and filling him with a warmth that sent his body aflame. . .

Rodney woke to harsh white lights and the sounds of yelling. He blinked rapidly, his mind confused, and felt a panic grow within him as he recognized the med bay. The mattress gave as he sat up quickly, nearly spilling him to the side, but he managed to catch hold and watch as the medical personnel created a manic pace.

He flagged down a passing nurse. "Hey? Could I get an aspirin or two, maybe three, hey? Hey, I'm talking here. . ." the nurse merely shook her head at him as she rushed by in a white blur. "Well, that's just. . .hey, you! In the jacket, yeah, I know, can I get some aspirin? Tylenol? Anything?" But he hurried on as well, barely sparing him a glance. "Am I here? Is my voice not CARRYING far enough or something? You act like somebody's dying!" And his face paled.

His feet touched down gently as he swung from the bed. He could see the shadows of the medical staff as they worked fervently. Someone was dying, he was sure of it, maybe he should have kept his mouth shut out of respect. Then he could get his medicine. His head thumped, keeping time with the rushing sound in his ears, and he leaned onto a vacated bed near his, watching the flurry of movement in silhouette. He could hear Dr. Beckett's professional, but troubled voice, and the nurses' snapped responses. He heard the equipment wail as the patient flatlined, and the sound drove him to sit on the bed. The movement beyond the curtain lasted only a few more moments, then there was silence.

Rodney leaned back and closed his eyes. He thought he felt a pat on the shoulder, but wasn't sure, and was surprised Carson's gorillas hadn't come to move him back to his own bed. When his eyes next opened, the room was empty.

Rodney's brows drew close together. He found himself walking to the curtain to comfort Carson, who was more than likely sitting beside his lost patient, giving him the guidance into the next life that companionship usually brought. He wasn't a social person, but the thought of someone, anyone, dying alone. . .no one should do that. At least this person would have two souls sitting beside him. Then he could get out for doing a good deed, and get to the mess in time for dinner. Mess. . .god, he was sounding like those gorillas.

The curtain snapped back. The body on the bed was dressed in charcoal and blue, with a familiar stain from the morning's spilt coffee. The body was decayed, crusted. . .and it was his.

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"AAAHHH!"

"AAAHHH!" Radek Zelenka dropped his pad, one hand flying to his chest while the other fought to retain his glasses. He sent an incredulous expression to Rodney, who had been dozing in his chair, and now was fully awake. "Do you mind? You scare the crap out of me, with your doing that!"

Rodney was looking around him frantically. He groaned and leaned his elbows on the table in front of him, his head in his hands. "Oh, leave it to you to be concerned for your own welfare! Never mind that I just woke from the worst nightmare imaginable and could have fallen from this seat and cracked my skull!"

"I never told you to sleep there, Rodney. Your fault. I take no responsibility." He shrugged Rodney's comment away and picked up his notepad, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He sniffed and continued to read.

"You're not even going to ask me what I dreamed about?"

"No, because I am sure you will tell me anyway, so my asking," he waved his pen in the air, "only a waste of breath."

"Your concern is overwhelming. But since you asked so nicely, I was in the med bay and everyone was running all over the place, trying to save this patient. Turns out that patient was me."

Zelenka looked at Rodney from over the tops of his frames. "And they succeeded?"

"No. Not exactly."

"Hmm." Zelenka returned to his work.

This prompted Rodney to his feet. "Hmm? That's all I get? Oh, I see, this isn't a case of you wanting my stereo when I meet my maker, you want the whole damn lab? Is that it? Can't wait to be rid of me so you can get your little Czech-ered-mitts on my projects!"

"My mitts already there." He pointed. "You are one paranoid little man."

"Little? I'll show you little! How about a lack of concern for your fellow man, huh? How about showing some compassion for a person in dire need here?"

"Dire need of what, Rodney?" Radek asked patiently.

Rodney closed his mouth, his brows raising as he searched for a plausible answer. "I don't know."

"I see. So you wish for unwarranted sympathy. I have none. Now warranted sympathy I am in full supply of." He turned his attention to the man now studying his notes over his shoulder. "You take medicine that Dr. Beckett give you, no?"

"No. I mean, not yet."

"No, you come here instead. Not a good plan, Rodney. You want me to tell you what your dream means?"

"What are you, a soothsayer now? Doesn't say much for these scientific theories you've been spouting off for the past week, I'll have to go back over these proposals and double check the validity. . ."

"Rodney." Zelenka's voice was sharp. "Dream is easy. You were asleep. A medical emergency woke you, and you saw yourself dead." He poked Rodney's chest. "That says what to you?"

"It says my dream world is sorely lacking."

"It says to GET SOME SLEEP before you drive Radek crazy!"

"Excuse me?"

"Don't make me page Dr. Beckett!"

"Fine!" Rodney turned on his heel, fuming, but stopped at the door. He huffed for a moment. "Radek?"

"Yes, Rodney?"

"That last equation is incorrect. Who taught you calculus, The Count?"

"No, Rodney, he taught numbering bolts of electrical current." Radek waved him out.

Rodney just snarled and moved on.

He rounded the corner and ran right into a wall of major.

"Hey! I was. . ."

"I'm fine," Rodney snapped, shoving Sheppard aside. He continued to huff down the hallway, with Sheppard on his heels.

"I wasn't asking. I was saying that I was looking for you."

"Oh, so you don't care either? That's great. I should be used to that, I don't know why I'm surprised. Actually I'm not surprised at all, they always say that. . ."

"Rodney, will you shut up a minute?" He put on the breaks as Rodney came to a sudden halt, turning to face him while stubbornly crossing his arms. His chin lifted defiantly. Sheppard swallowed, meeting that angry gaze, and his thoughts fled.

"Well?" Rodney pressed.

"I uh. . .Teyla wanted to know if you would be available for a lesson in stick fighting. With this new threat coming, it would pay for all of the scientist to learn a little bit of hand to hand combat."

"Teyla's form of fighting would be more her stick to my head, and besides, that's what we have you trained monkeys here for, to protect us scientist so we can work. Isn't that right, Major?"

"Not totally, no! But mostly, maybe."

"How succinct. I'm surprised they didn't ask you to write speeches for your president." He started off, then stopped with an evil grin. "Oh, wait! I thought that sounded familiar. Geneva convention, wasn't it?"

"Now's not the time to argue politics."

"Why not? We argue about everything else. Stick fighting? Are you nuts?"

"It was Teyla's idea. I said that everyone needed to be prepared for hand to hand, and she offered to teach her techniques."

"Which I'm sure has every able-bodied male waiting in the wings. I'll pass."

"Rodney. . ."

"Major, as much as it would thrill me to be flung around on a mat by a beautiful woman, I hardly think the circumstances call for it." He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, and winced.

Sheppard ran his tongue over his teeth, and decided to let his unspoken jibe slide. "Fine. I'll tell her you gracefully declined."

"Thank you."

"That means you meet me on the mat at seven am sharp tomorrow."

"What?" The hand fell. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"Either hers or mine, now which is it?"

Rodney slumped in resignation. "At least I'm used to being made an ass in front of you, and your technique is probably more familiar, meaning not quite alien."

Sheppard gave a one-sided smile. "Good. Seven it is then." He clapped Rodney on the shoulder.

"Great." Yep. Tomorrow was officially shot.


	3. Chapter 3

The waves were pretty at night. They soared up towards the city like white wings, only to dip down again and rejoin the water. The city lights reflected and danced, and in another hour or so the moon would rise hugely on the horizon. Elizabeth shivered slightly and pulled her favorite, worn sweater around her thin shoulders. She was as far away from the city as she dared go, on a pier within the crook of one of the city's many arms. The design reminded her of a snowflake, which never really struck her as odd until she rose over Atlantis in a puddlejumper, and saw it below, grand and stately and delicate, as all snowflakes were. Only this one refused to melt on the water.

She wished she felt as secure.

There were times when she questioned her decision to accept the assignment to Atlantis. She was human, she had her fears, she couldn't always be the strong leader. She knew that. The fact that everyone seemed to expect her to be, flattered her. It showed they had faith in her ability, that they couldn't picture her any differently. i Oh, if only they knew. /i She closed her eyes and imagine herself back at home, on the lake, with her dog Alistair sitting beside her. Alistair was long gone, unfortunately, and so were those days on the lake. But she could retreat there in her mind, she could relive those days and the bug bites and the sunsets, the crickets and frogs, the breeze of twilight trying to chase her inside. Out here it was so expansive, a visual reminder of just how much they had to do, to explore, to take care of. Here, they were the intruders. They were the aliens in those horror movies that visited other planets. They had come to the Wraith, the Wraith hadn't come to them. Of course, they hadn't tried to suck anyone's face off either.

Maybe she was just lonely.

Maybe she could meet a man who would be willing to move to Atlantis. Someone off-world, a farmer, maybe, gentle and loving and. . .who was she kidding? The last time they met a gentle, loving race there was talk of building nuclear warheads. It was odd in a way, it was like she'd never left home.

Damn, she was depressed.

She decided sitting out on the pier was not the best thing to do while feeling this down. She knew some of the crew were going through a down period where the dark waters below looked more tempting than waiting for a culling, where being water-locked for a year had taken it's toll. She had taken to sending teams to the mainland for a day, letting them get their hands dirty helping the Athosians tend their crops. After all, it was theirs as well, and the Athosians were glad of the help. This relieved some of the stress and alien-ness of their situation. Several botanists were stationed on the mainland, studying the flora and fauna and finding plenty of differences, despite the similar appearance. It reflected the state of her crew. They wore uniforms, but each person was unique, and it was starting to show in the activities they pursued in order to stay sane. There was a dance room, for instance. She'd caught several practicing a barre routine, and was tempted to give it a go herself. Others routinely ran the halls. There were chess boards strategically placed through the station, like the pawns themselves. One room, with the help of Roberts, who was a movie buff, had been converted into a makeshift theater, the display screen on the wall jury-rigged to his laptop. The picture wasn't great, but it was watchable for the desperate escapees armed with popcorn. Only the chairs weren't comfortable. It was hard, adjusting, but for the most part the citizens were doing it with class. But there were a few that couldn't take the strain, the change, the alien-ness of it, and they would retreat to a separate part of the city, where they could take their time and come and go from the rest of the crew as they pleased. It was the bunch that shunned social contact, the bunch that craved a bit of solitude but couldn't find it. The ones that were in desperate need of a vacation, and the ones Elizabeth kept a distant, but steady eye on.

The view of the water darkened. Elizabeth blinked and winced, then looked up. A light had gone out. No, several lights. And as she watched, the tower to her left went dark.

Elizabeth stood and hurried back inside.

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"Radek?"

"I don't know. The power is just leaking out, I cannot find it."

Sheppard ran his fingers through his hair, spiking it more so than normal. He had been enjoying his football recording when everything went dark, then powered up as reserves kicked in. "What do you mean, leaking out?"

"I mean, leaking. Going away. Whoosh." He sailed his palm in a straight line and bent over his laptop, pushing his glasses up onto his nose. Sheppard made a mental note to buy him a band. "There was a power spike about an hour ago, but nothing wrong. We checked. Now power is failing."

"How bad is it?"

"I am hoping it is limited to certain parts of the city. We have bypassed some of the conduits and rerouted the power into other containment. Hopefully, this helps."

"You know where this leak is, then."

"I know about where it is, but exactly?" He wiggled his hand in the air. "Shaky."

Sheppard nodded and turned to the lab tech near him. "Get Rodney in here."

"NO!" Radek's shout startled both Sheppard and the tech. "No. I am sorry, but he sleeps, finally, and I can not take another day with him and no rest. Let him sleep, we can work on this."

"You sure?"

Radek set his lips in a line and straightened. "Major Sheppard," he said thinly, "I realize I may not carry the same level of expertise as Dr. McKay, but perfectly capable of tracing a power leak, if allowed to do my job."

Sheppard blinked, and Radek's words sunk in. "Oh, Christ, Radek. I didn't mean that."

Radek sniffed back his irritation and turned to the screen. "No, no, of course not."

"Really, I-I'm sorry."

"Dr. McKay is brilliant man. I do not argue this. But he is not only smart man." Radek tapped his temple. "We all have good brains here. We all use them. We just go slower than Rodney."

Sheppard pushed away from the table he was leaning on. "Lemme know when you find something?"

"Of course."

"And Radek?"

"Yes, what is it?" He continued to look at his pad.

"When's the last time you slept?"

The look Radek returned was surprised, and grateful, and Sheppard realized that if the same question had come from McKay, it would have been yet another demand, not a question of concern. "I will sleep, Major, once we get this under control." He was back at his pad, frowning through his lenses.

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Sheppard was in the hall when he saw her. He raised his hand to block her questions, and as usual, it didn't work. "What's going on? Are we losing power?"

"We've lost a little, yes, but Radek's working on it. Nothing to get all worried about."

"What makes you so sure?" Weir challenged, her head cocked to look at him.

"Did I ever tell you how cute you are in that sweater?"

"John. . ."

"Look, I saw the readings, and the power loss was minimal. They've rerouted, we have reserves, we're in good shape, considering."

"Where's Rodney?"

"Asleep." John looked up as the lights suddenly faded, and curses in several various languages emerged from the door. "But not for much longer." Weir gave a single nod and walked into the lab.

"Great," John muttered, "just leave it to me."

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The thought of entering Rodney's room was terrifying, to say the least. He'd rather face a Wraith dart, at least then he had weapons. But to wake an exhausted Rodney, well, if he could keep him tired enough it would probably provide a healthy defense against further attacks. He raised his hand to knock, then sighed and thought the door open. Good ole ATA gene. Rodney was going to hate him for this.

He was hardly three steps in when a heavy weight slammed into him and pushed him to the floor. He felt the weight on his back, a sharp pain as a knee pressed into his spine, and his arm pulled behind him while a hand grabbed the back of his neck. He fought to regain his breath when a voice whispered into his ear, "Following me, huh? I knew it. I knew you couldn't leave well enough alone."

John found his voice. "What the f – Rodney? God. . .lemme up..."

"Uh-uh, not so fast. I know you, I know what you want. You think this'll fool me, huh?" He yanked John's arm harder.

"Look, if this is about those sparring lessons, forget it! You don't need it, you've proved your point, now get off!" He really was hurting, and he was trying not to think of the fact that Rodney wasn't acting very Rodney-ish.

But Rodney pressed harder. "The only thing I've proven is that you've lost. Now leave me the fuck alone!" The grip loosened slightly, and John took advantage.

He wrenched his arm free, rolling onto his back and delivering a punch in the jaw. Rodney fell back slightly, enough for John to shove him aside and sit up, hands in front, readied to swing. But Rodney just sat there, rubbing his jaw worriedly, staring at him.

It suddenly occurred to John that Rodney not only wasn't acting like Rodney, he wasn't acting like he was awake. His eyes were glazed and closing as he slid to his side. John pitched forward and guided his head down before he could crack it on the hard floor. He always heard it was bad to wake someone who was sleep walking, or – sleep fighting, whatever, but Rodney had drifted off, and John was running out of time. "Rodney? Wake up. Come on, power's going all wonky. Wake up."

He took his time waking. His eyes rolled like he was drugged, leaving John to wonder just how many pills of Carson's he took. His breath was irregular, then soothed into a normal rhythm. Bloodshot eyes focused on John. "Major?"

The word carried so much confusion with in that Sheppard forgot to be angry about the pills. "Rodney, you okay?"

"Why are you in here?" He looked around. "I'm in my room, right?"

"Yeah, you're still here. I let myself in, sorry." Rodney was making no move to sit up, and he was on the verge of calling Carson. "We've got a bit of a situation, you think you can handle it?" He hoped the thought of work would clear that ragged mind.

Rodney brought his hand to his face, hiding it, then rubbed it slowly. John was liking this less and less. "I, uh. . .help me up." He reached out blindly, and John grabbed his hand, hoisting him to his feet and steadying him.

"Rodney, what happened? How many of those pills did you take?"

It was a moment before he answered, but when he did, he sounded more like himself. "I took two extra. They hadn't been working."

"Well, that was a pretty stupid thing to do, McKay."

"Hey, I was ordered to sleep, and this was the only way I could do it? Okay?" He swayed, and John set him on his bed. "Not like," he swallowed heavily, "Not like I wanted more pills to take."

"I thought hypochondriacs liked pills."

"We. . . like cures, Major, not quick. . . fixes." His words strung together like a drunken man, he was hardly able to utter them.

"Yeah, well, we've got a problem that requires a quick fix, but you're in no condition to tackle it. What would have happened if we were attacked right now? You think you're up to the challenge?"

"Go to hell! 'Get some sleep, Rodney. You took too much, Rodney.' Maybe I can't sleep without taking too much, you think of that? I didn't expect this to happen." He continued to rub his face.

"Okay, I see. 'Let's load up on sleeping meds to make sure they work, make sure I'm conked out so I can't tell what's going on.' That is a red warning that something is going on. It isn't a cure, it's something to hide behind!"

"IT'S A WAY TO SLEEP! Now get off my back!"

"Speaking of which," Sheppard egged him on, because the angrier he got, the more clear he got, and because he truly wanted to know what was going on, "you could have walked right into an attack and not known what was going on!"

"What are you blathering about?"

"You were walking in your sleep, Rodney. Surprise. Not good rest there."

Rodney jerked his head up, then looked like he regretted it. "I do not sleep walk!"

"No, you sleep fight. You had me down and everything. I had no idea you could do that." The last sentences carried reluctant admiration.

"Do what?"

"You don't remember?"

Rodney snorted. "I think I'd remember if I took you down."

"True." Sheppard walked over to the chair where Rodney had thrown his pants. He tossed them. "Look, no more large doses, huh? You know better than that."

"Yeah, yeah. Get me some water, will you? I'm beyond parched, my insides are shriveled."

"Yes, Oh Captain my Captain."

"Ha-ha." Rodney forced his legs in his pants and zipped. He took the water and downed it upright as John stood beside him, patiently holding his shoes. Rodney sighed in relief as he passed the glass over. "Now, did you say something about a power loss?"

Sheppard raised his brows. "Yes, Rodney," he said patiently. "Maybe you'd like to take a look?"

"Zelenka still on duty?"

"Probably."

"Wonderful." He yanked at this laces, tied them, then swayed on his bed.

John grabbed his arms. "None of that. Your punishment is that you have to work through this fog you've created. Congratulations, you've just wasted a sleeping pill."

"Damn things are a waste anyway," Rodney muttered.


	4. Chapter 4

The problem was easy enough to fix. Radek had acted with supreme efficiency by the time McKay and Sheppard arrived, shutting down the various power containment fields. "But I don't know for how long," he said, his arms folded before him, "it may spike again, it may not."

"How much did we lose?"

"Two percent."

Rodney just nodded and studied the display before him.

"Any idea what's causing it?"

"No. There is no rhyme nor reason, just boop! – a spike then a part of the city shuts down."

Rodney's brows drew tight in disbelief as he slowly looked up. "I sorry. . .did you just say 'boop'?"

"Yes, just. . .boop" he popped his hand into the air, ". . .like that, see?"

"No, I don't see." He leaned forward, edging Zelenka out of the way. "But, for what it's worth, you did good work here. Look, uh – why don't you go get some sleep or something. I have no intention of being the only coherent person this side of the gate in the morning."

"Yes, Rodney." Zelenka gave Sheppard a knowing look. Sheppard was actually surprised to hear a compliment come from Rodney, and stared at him.

The other man finally straightened. His whole body rolled in exasperation, like giant eyes in someone's head. "Oh. . . what? I can feel you boring into my spine."

"Just impressed. You actually said Radek did something right."

"Radek quite frequently does things correctly. I just don't want him getting lazy and thinking I give a damn, cause I don't."

"Liar. You sent him to bed."

"Without supper." Rodney picked up a wrapped sandwich, most likely Zelenka's, and opened it. He took a huge bite, took a moment to taste, and nodded in appreciation. The sandwich was held out. "Want some?"

"No thanks," John replied pointedly, "I prefer my food not stolen."

"What do you think this is, Les Mis? Look," he rewrapped the sandwich and set it down, "I really am hungry, lets go eat while we still have fresh food."

"Rodney!"

"What now?"

John pointed. "You just took a bite of that man's sandwich, now you're leaving it for him?"

"Hm? Oh, right." Rodney picked it up again and chomped in as he circled around John and headed for the door.

He had finished his mini-meal by the time they reached the commissary. Each grabbed a plate, with John leading the way down the line. He stopped when he realized Rodney wasn't following. "Hey, this was your idea, come on!" Rodney just remained frozen to the spot, his expression one of mild disgust.

"Do - do you smell that?"

"This? Not great, but if you're really hungry. . ."

"You know what? I'm not." He slammed his tray down and hurried out.

If there was one thing McKay didn't do, it was leave food behind. Sheppard followed him, mildly concerned. "We can eat in my place. Or maybe we can go back to sleep?" Rodney was walking faster, forcing John to almost a jog to keep up. "Rodney?"

"I-that sandwich filled me up, I think. I've got work to do."

"Come on, one bite? Besides, you have sleep to do!" He raced forward and grabbed Rodney's arm. "Crisis averted for the moment, now let's go."

"No."

"McKay. . ."

"I said no, Major! Which part of no do you not understand?" He shouldered Sheppard aside. "I have work to do."

"No. . . you don't!"

"Major, might I remind you that with the pending threat, this would be a really, really, bad time to lose our power? Or maybe you have a sweet tooth and wouldn't mind becoming home-spun desert? Oh, I know, let's use what power we have left and hang a neon sign that says, 'free food for the taking'!"

"Will you calm down?"

"You calm down! We are losing power; slowly, yes, but we are losing it. There are hive ships coming. Now do you want me to fix it, or not?"

"One more hour isn't going to make a difference!"

"One more hour could make all the difference, Major!" Rodney spat. "Now if I had say, oh, the source of power that ran the pseudo Atlantis, we wouldn't be in this fix, now would we?"

The aggressiveness had come from left field, catching Sheppard off-guard. "But we don't, and that's not. . ."

"And who's fault is that, huh?" Rodney was right in his face, and Sheppard blinked in surprise. "Who's fault? Who was so eager to get out there that he couldn't stop to take the time to examine. . ."

"If I recall," John replied hotly, not backing down, "I was trying to save your life!"

"How noble of you! You do realize that your simple act of charity has sentenced this entire city to death?"

Sheppard was breathing heavily, biting back everything he wanted to say; every childish, cruel remark that wanted to surface. He could see the fatigue in Rodney's eyes, the lines etched along the corners of that wide mouth. The need to sleep radiated from him.

"Rodney," Sheppard forced his voice under control, "I am ordering you to return to your quarters. If you refuse my order, I will have Dr. Beckett confine you to the infirmary until you are rested enough to resume your duties. Is that clear?"

Rodney's eyes burned like poison. John had never seen the man so livid. He just knew a vessel would pop in his head and they would lose that brilliant mind forever. His own anger slowly ebbed, but he kept a stern face for Rodney's sake. The man finally yielded. "I get it. You think I'm of no use to you."

"I think you need to recharge your batteries like every good machine does."

"I'm too tired to take offense at that." Rodney had slumped, looking dejected, ill, and a hundred years older.

"I know."

"I'll just sleep in the lab, I can. . ."

"No. Bed. Now." Sheppard gently Rodney guided him down the hall.

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The sun had risen through clears skies to shine over calm waters. The city bathed underneath, proud and glistening. It buzzed with activity, the occasional jumper launching and flying a perimeter like a grey bird, surveying the area for predators before heading to the mainland. People appeared and vanished from her balconies, stationary figures gazed wistfully from the large windows. The crew that was on the night rotation had retired to bed, leaving the majority of the population to tend to their business as usual. Repairs and preparations, research, stock and food counts, trade agreements, weapons checks, recreational activities, things ran with the usual hiccups but no setbacks. Sheppard was leaning back in his chair, his feet propped on the desk before him, studying the maintenance rotation and training schedule. It was six am. He hadn't slept.

A presence filled his doorway, and he could tell without looking up that it was Teyla, partly from the scent of her herbal soap, and partly because she was the only one who could so completely fill a room with her presence without stepping a foot inside. "Teyla. You're up early."

"I am always up at this hour, I just rarely leave my quarters, I am usually performing my morning exercises."

Her hair was wet, like she had just come from a shower, which explained the strong scent of soap. John let his papers fall into his lap, and threaded his fingers behind his head. "So what's interrupted your routine?"

"I. . .need to talk with you about an incident that has occurred. If I may?" She gestured to a seat near his. He removed his feet from the desk and sat up, nodded to her seat without saying anything.

She sat smoothly, and rubs her palms on the tops of her legs, waiting to speak. When she did, she leaned forward, her attention focused. "It is about Dr. McKay. I am worried about him."

"Why, what's happened?"

"He. . ." she seemed hesitant, "I do not wish to cause any trouble. . ."

"Did he do something?" John was sitting forward now.

"No, nothing at all. But he did knock on my door, and when I rose to answer, I heard a shout. I opened the door to find him staring down the hall, but I saw nothing. And when I tried to ask if there was a problem, he just apologized and said something about meeting you this morning."

"I take it no one was in the hall."

"No, no one was there. But he was afraid, Major, and he was trying to disguise it."

"Why did he come to your door?"

"That I do not know. But. . .he seemed surprised to see me."

John sat back slowly and sighed. "He was sleep walking before. Took some extra pills that Carson gave him, I think it messed him up. But that was, what, probably six hours ago?"

"I do not believe he was asleep, but I do not think he intended to come to me. Or perhaps it was not the shock of seeing me, but seeing anybody at all."

"Are you sure he was awake?"

"Quite certain."

"Okay." John inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. "Thanks for letting me know."

"I do not know what to do in this matter."

"Do nothing. I'm meeting Rodney in an hour, and if need be, I'll talk to Carson. But hey," he reached out for her as she stood, "do try and keep an eye on him, just don't let him know you're keeping an eye on him, you know."

"I will be discreet." She gave a shadow of a smile and a slow nod, and the door opened. She walked through, stately, and he followed her trail with hidden admiration.

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"Oh, Christ!" Rodney winced and rolled to his side, holding his shoulder. He pointedly ignored the man standing over him, he'd had enough.

"Come on, Rodney, you can do better than that! You're not even trying!"

Rodney caught his breath before speaking. "I see little use in subjecting myself to more torture just for your morbid entertainment, Major. Can I go now?"

"It's seven fifteen!"

"Exactly. And that's fourteen minutes longer than I wanted to be here, now do you mind?" He reached up a hand.

John pulled him up, holding on to his wrist until the man was stable on his feet. "Better?"

"No."

"Good. Again."

"What?"

"I said, do it again!" John took a defensive stance, waiting.

Rodney felt his breath leave him. "Major. . ."

"Attack me, McKay! Or have you forgotten how already?"

"I already told you, I don't remember doing that!"

"Just like you don't remember going to Teyla's room this morning?"

"No!" He looked genuinely confused. "Why would I go to Teyla's room?"

"You're lying."

Rodney gave his head a small shake, like he was hard of hearing. "What?"

"I said, you're lying! You are a liar, McKay!"

Pushing his buttons worked, especially when the man was fatigued. "Just where do you get off? You're calling me a liar?"

"Yes, I am! You do nothing but sit on your ass all day and think up excuses for people to come to you and tell you how good you are, or you think up reasons for people to show they care for you, because you can't muster up the strength to care for yourself!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about your visits to the infirmary for a paper cut! I'm talking about your coughs and sneezes and peeling skin! The only reason you go to Carson is because you're afraid he won't pay you any attention otherwise! You aren't exactly a socialite, and I happen to know you didn't make nearly as many visits to the infirmary at the SGC!"

"That Janet person was sadistic. She. . ."

"You feel you have to put on a show so everyone can prove they care. You're lonely, McKay, admit it!"

Rodney pointed a finger angrily. "You are an asshole!"

"And you are a liar!" He shoved Rodney.

Rodney pushed back, then again, and again until he was throwing punches at John's chest. John blocked them easily, turning from one side to another until a lucky shot landed on his jaw. Another caught him in the gut and he went down, but not before locking his legs around Rodney's, bringing the scientist crashing down on him. God, the man was heavy. He pushed the body off him and pulled an arm back, but Rodney was faster. Some sort of survival instinct had kicked in, whether fuel by anger or adrenaline he wasn't sure, but he found himself flat on his back with a knee on his chest and a raised fist. John lifted his hand in surrender, and grunted, "Good move". Rodney pulled back, breathing heavily, and was suddenly on his back with Sheppard over him, one knee pinning his shoulder, his weight on Rodney's ribs.

"You let down your guard," Sheppard said.

"Yes, well, don't count on that happening again," Rodney gasped through clenched teeth. Sheppard waited for him to retaliate, but Rodney just lay there, closing his eyes. His face showed the edges of some inner battle he was waging.

John rose slowly, straightened his clothes, and watched the immobile man. "Hey." He prodded McKay's side with his boot, and caught a glimpse of annoyed blue between slits. "We still have forty minutes."

"I think I'll just lay here. You can jump and pounce and pin, because this is where I'll end up. I can save myself the trouble of unnecessary exertion."

"And how are you going to learn anything?"

"I have a gun, Major, and I know how to use it."

"Sounds like a threat."

"Good." Rodney sat up. "Can I go now?"

Sheppard glanced at his watch. Truth was, it was the longest session they'd had, considering the few times he had been able to drag Rodney down there. The man just couldn't stand pain, be it injury or burning muscles. "Sure. Why not. Be sure to smile at the Wraith that corners you, because I'm sure the extra adrenaline is like whipped cream."

"Gun, Major."

Yeah, and Sheppard remembered the last time Rodney was face to face with a Wraith, his gun his only line of defense. "Does the phrase, 'okay, now what' mean anything to you?"

Rodney crossed the room, peeling his sweaty shirt from his chest with two fingers. "I panicked."

"And when confronted with several Wraith bent on the destruction of the city and culling everyone in sight, you'll be mister calm and collected."

Rodney glared up at him from his towel. "Look, do you have a point?"

"The point is that you need to be prepared. We're training all the scientist and non military personnel, you aren't being singled out here. We are vastly outnumbered, and we are staying to fight. Do you honestly think the Wraith are not going to walk these halls? Come into this room? Hunt you down before you can use your brain to think of a way out of it? They don't respond to smarts, McKay, you can't con your way out. You have to fight." The intensity of his eyes drilled his point home.

Rodney actually laughed, turning to face the wall, his arms dropping as his shoulders sagged. "Oh, I see now. My meager punches will prevail over advanced weaponry every time. I"ll just bloody their noses, shall I? Tell the bullies to leave me the fuck alone?"

Sheppard shook his head. "What other choice do we have?"

Rodney sat on the bench. His head fell back against the wall. His towel hung limp from his leg. "I know."

There was something hidden in that submissive statement, and the scientist wasn't letting on. John sighed and flung his own worn towel to the floor, taking a seat beside his friend. "And. . . I think you should talk to Heightmeyer."

"Oh, god. . ." Rodney started to go, but John stopped him.

"You're not sleeping, and when you do manage to close your eyes, you're walking. You can't keep going like this. When's the last time you had a good night's sleep?"

"That's none of your business, Major." The iciness returned, and he pulled away from John. "Are we done here, or not?" His glare was frigid.

So he didn't want to talk. Fine. Sheppard let the coldness seep into his bones. "Yeah, McKay. We're done here."

"Finally." Rodney walked quickly back to his room, his whole face pulled down into anger.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hello Radek." Rodney greeted the man before he could say anything. "Glad you finally decided to come to work this morning."

Zelenka waved him away impatiently. "Rodney, it's still early. I am not yet awake to talk to you."

"Works for me, just listen." He tapped the screen impatiently. "What's this?"

"You say to listen, then you ask stupid question." Radek put on his glasses and squinted at the screen. "Numbers."

"Yes, yes, very good, but what is it?"

"What do you mean what is it? Why should I know what it is?"

"Because you were the one last at this particular station according to the log, because your project was on this laptop and led to this screen, now will you please stop pussyfooting and tell me what this means?"

"Are you tailing my projects?"

"Radek. . ."

"I am telling you I do not know! Why do you not believe me?"

Rodney opened his mouth to expel his usual tirade, but halted. Radek was looking at the screen, and his puzzled face was all the proof Rodney needed. "You really don't know about this?"

"No! I am telling you no, but do you listen? It is as always." The smaller man eased his arm in front of Rodney and touched the controls below the screen. The numbers flipped like pages in a book. "I have no idea. This is new."

"What exactly were you working on?"

"I was trying to establish a alternate connection between our sensor array and the. . .wait, look, look at this!" Radek had turned, and was now jabbing his finger at nearby laptop. "It blinked. They all blinked."

"All of them?" The lights above him suddenly dimmed, then brightened.

Rodney spun in his chair and started to run his fingers over the console. "Radek! Run a scan. . ."

"Am doing so!" Radek interrupted, and turned quickly. "We have a problem!"

"What now?"

"I've traced the spike. It is inside the room that houses the water containment facility."

"What?" That was a damned odd place for a spike. Rodney stood and walked over to the laptop which plugged into the console below it. "How?"

"Rodney. . .levels are high." He turned. "It will not shut down."

"Bypass?"

"No."

"Crap!" He leaned over Radek's shoulder, tapping away, then sighed. "This is no good, I'll have to divert the power manually. Call Dr. Weir and tell her what's going on. . .no wait, get up to the control room, you'll have better access to the system from Big Boy up top."

"Right." Zelenka pushed past Rodney as he studied the screen, then took off towards the containment plant.

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The facility, at least what was currently active, was a mere four rooms, three very large and one small. The large rooms housed the storage tanks that held the purified the water coming into the city. Rodney knew there were many more scattered through the various layers of the city, but the city had enough power to run two. The small room he entered was filled with pipes, and on the wall was a small panel.

He slung his pack from his shoulders and pulled out his laptop. The panel popped open, providing the necessary wires to link the control to his computer. Within seconds a grid showed, and he squinted at the exposed crystalline wires within the wall. Okay, this was easy. He reached in, and cursed as sparks spat at him. There was a dull whine, a sound that was not good on so many levels. He heard a frantic voice over his headset, the accent thickening the words, "Rodney! Huge power spike, get out of there! You hear me?"

Oh yeah, he heard.

Right as the wall blew.

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Sheppard was climbing the stairs to the upper level of the gate room when he heard Radek's shout. People rushed around suddenly, and several grunts flew past him down the stairs. Four strides had him at Radek's side. The scientist was calling out orders to anyone near him, and even spun to push John out of the way, until he realized just who it was he was pushing. "What's going on?"

"Water containment blew. The room is flooding."

So they hadn't met their crisis quota for the week. He knew things were going too smoothly. "Can't you just vent the water to the sea?"

Radek shook his head violently. "Internal controls are not responding, we cannot gain access to the doors nor the flue. And Rodney's in there."

"Open the door then! We'll seal. . ."

"Did you not hear? I cannot! The power's down, the door will not open!"

"Shit!" Sheppard was already running.

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There was a hole in the wall. Unfortunately, the wall was on the wrong side of the room, towards the tanks, and the hole too high to vent the water before he was under. Four large feeder pipes were now busted. Water was everywhere. The explosion had flung him back, slamming him painfully into the smaller pipes that dislodged from the wall in the blast and fell around him.

A worried eye was glued to the control panel that still threw sparks. The laptop was now wedged between a u-bend and the wall. Oh god, please don't slip. . .don't slip don't slip wait until I can get up. . . .

His head throbbed. He pulled at his leg uselessly as the water continued to fill the room, reminding him of those seventies disaster movies that were so popular when he was young. He always laughed at them.

He pushed at the pipe holding him down, knowing there was no way in hell he could budge it. "Fuck!" The water was circling his waist. Maybe it would rise and create a floating leverage, but he knew the pipe was too heavy for that. He twisted his body, flailed his arms, used the heel of his boot to heave the bar off, but nothing worked. One tiny part of his body trapped, but it would be enough to keep him under as the water closed in over his head. He keyed his radio again. "Hey! I need help down here!" The water rose to his lower ribs. There was another small burst of power from the downed machine, and the lights went out. "Oh, yeah, great!" Rodney shouted. "That's just great, thanks! At least I won't be electrocuted, that leaves just one way to die! Thanks for narrowing the options!"

The water continued to rise swiftly, more swiftly that he would have thought possible from four pipes. His chest was submerged, and that damned pipe that trapped his ankle wasn't budging a centimeter. He braced himself on the materials behind him and pulled, pulled with all his might until an intensely painful pop caused him to yell out and stop. He could feel the water level with his shoulders, and the urgency of the situation set in. "Oh, christ. Christ!" Panic swelled. He tried to raise himself up with his hands, grabbing the pipe overhead, and managed to get his upper chest out of the liquid, but his slick grip gave way, and he was under. Not only that but when he resurfaced, he realized the water was up to his chin, and he had no way of surpassing it. "Dammit! I need help down here! Ohgod. . ." His eyes were wide as he gasped. This was it? This was how he was going to go? "Jesus f – ' Christ!" His voice was deep with panic. "Somebody help me!" Water filled his mouth and he spat it out, his chin lifted as high as it would go, even higher than his arrogance carried it. Nose toward the ceiling, he gasped for his last breath.

Hands grabbed the back of his head, lifting it higher, and voices yelled over the rush of water. He felt bodies around him, felt excruciating pain around his ankle, heard a mix of voice he couldn't recognize. The water suddenly closed over his face again, throwing him into further panic, and this time there was no relief.

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Radek slammed his hand down and flung his glasses to the table top. He couldn't find it. There was no indication of a power spike that would cause the water containment system to blow. Nothing. He let flow a string curses that his colleagues didn't understand, nor did they need to.

A voice gasped over his radio. "We have him! Tell Carson we're coming!"

"Oh, thank god," Radek raised his hand to his headset, but heard Carson's voice come through, saying he was ready. Radek lowered his head in relief, then raised it to Elizabeth's concerned gaze. He shook his head and resumed his work, sealing off the levels closest to the flooding.

"Radek?" Weir wasn't letting him off that easy. Radek took a deep breath.

"The power spike caused an explosion. I don't know how, or why. I saw it with my own eyes, and now there is nothing."

"What do you mean, nothing?"

"There is nothing! No readings, nothing that shows the spike even happened"

"Wait, you're saying there was a power spike large enough to shut down our water containment system, and you can't find it?"

"I am saying just that. As far as this. . ." he flung a hand at the screen, "it never happened."

"Is the water contained?"

"It is."

"How much power did we lose this time?"

Radek checked. "According to this," he said, and slowly turned to Weir. "None. It was rerouted."

Weir studied him for a moment before speaking. "You mean this was deliberate?"

"The city does not reroute power on its own, even under failsafe. Someone had to do it."

"Sabotage." Weir said plainly.

Zelenka shrugged. "Not easy to say. Maybe."


	6. Chapter 6

Beckett looked down at his patient and rubbed his shoulder gently before walking over to McKay.

The physicist was glaring at him. "Are you ready for me now?"

"Rodney, the man was in pain!"

"And I'm not over here dancing the mambo!" He threw the covers from his leg and pointed to his bandaged foot. "Do you see this? This hurts!"

"It will be fine."

"Fine? I break an ankle and nearly drown, and all you can do is say fine?"

"I said your ankle will be fine, it isn't broken. You'll want to use a crutch for a day or so and keep it elevated when you sit."

"But it hurts!"

"Aye, I expect it does! You gave it quite a jolt when you tried to free yourself."

"Not broken? Really?" He shifted his foot and wriggled his toes carefully, and winced.

"No, Rodney," Carson gently took Rodney's heel and moved his foot back onto the bed, covering it. "How is your head?"

Rodney leaned back, his expression suddenly stilled as his demeanor changed. "It's fine."

"Are you certain?"

"I said it's fine, didn't I?"

"Funny how that word seems to have a different meaning when you use it," the doctor sighed. "Very well then. Call me if you need anything."

Rodney caught the sigh, knew what it meant, and closed inwards. "I won't need anything." His mouth was set, and he pushed his head back into the pillows and closed his eyes.

Carson walked to his desk, nearly colliding with Sheppard, who was patiently waiting for him. "How is he?"

The doctor sighed resignedly. "He'll be alright. Recovering from the scare. Suffered a mild concussion, and his ankle's fairly bruised. He's annoyed and in rare form."

"I bet." He perched himself on the edge of Carson's desk as the doctor sat. "He cut it pretty damn close this time. He was underwater for several minutes before we could get him out."

"I don't suppose you were the one giving him mouth to mouth until you got an oxygen mask on 'em."

"If you tell him that, I'll make sure the next anal exam has your name on it."

Carson flashed a grin and started to sort his papers. He glanced up as Sheppard continued to sit. "Can I do something for you, Major?"

Sheppard pursed his lips, gave the question due consideration, and stood. "No, I'm good."

"Then why don't you just go in and see the man?"

"Nah, I don't want to disturb him."

"Five minutes." Carson waved his paper towards the beds. "Go."

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Weir sat at the table, staring at nothing, waiting for everyone to arrive for the meeting. The power spike and fluctuations had continued through the day and night, sending poor Radek in circles. If he had a tail, he'd be chasing it. With Rodney down and out for the next day, due to his head injury, it was all the poor man could do to keep up. He was handling it exceptionally well.

Kavanaugh, on the other hand, was throwing out theories left and right, calling Weir every half hour with a new prognosis on the internal systems that needed to be checked. He was driving her crazy, and although she appreciated the work, she couldn't help but wonder if he was being so eager only because Rodney was down for the day. He had a tendency to shine brightly if he knew he was in the light, and at the moment, he and Zelenka were the star attractions.

They filed in to her office with polite greetings, followed by Sheppard, who looked well rested. Ford walked in a moment later, and she brightened at his youthful face. "Lieutenant! I'm glad you're back with us, how was your trip to the mainland?"

"Wonderful, ma'am," he responded gleefully, barely able to contain his enthusiasm within proper military constraints. "They have this beach, nothing but sand for miles. And we found this waterfall where you can swim, I'm telling you, shore leave? This place is the bomb!"

"So your scouting party was a success, then," she smiled.

"Cook-outs and all." He grinned and sat, waggling his thick, dark brows at Major Sheppard, who couldn't hold back his smile. "So what's been going on here?"

Weir cleared her throat and sent him a look as Kavanaugh scowled. Ford immediately straightened and put on a professional face.

"What's 'been' going on," Kavanaugh said smartly, "is we have experienced power fluctuations and failures since you left. None of these fluctuations have drained our resources to the point where it can't be replaced, but it is only a matter of time before the seam rips."

"We have been monitoring the fluctuations," Zelenka added in a more courteous voice, "there is no pattern. It is impossible to track, therefore impossible to predict and contain."

"And we have no idea what's causing this?" Ford asked with concern.

Zelenka looked at Kavanaugh who, for once, said nothing. He just shook his head.

"How many have we experienced so far?" Weir asked.

Zelenka quirked the corner of his mouth. "At present, count it twenty three separate, and very minor, with three larger. But each time we have managed to replace any power lost by rerouting systems to compensate, only. . .."

"Every time there is a power loss somewhere in the city, it is because it was rerouted to spike in another area of the city," Kavanaugh cut in. "But we don't know as yet why, or how, it is being rerouted."

"There isn't a visible power drop before one of these spikes?"

"No, ma'am," Radk responded, "it happens simultaneously. Only after studying the last set of readings, we discovered this. There is a spike, then there is a loss somewhere in the station at that exact same moment."

"That's a damn fast transfer," Sheppard commented, and Radek agreed with a nod.

Weir took a deep breath. "Well, it doesn't sound like there is much else we can do. Keep an eye on it, and keep me informed." She nodded as they thanked her and stood. Kavanaugh was talking the minute they exited.

It seemed that lately, all she did was tell her people to keep her informed of one thing or another, to the point where her request sounded more like a dismissal. Elizabeth fingered the paper before her, then turned her gaze outwards. Maybe a trip to the mainland was what she needed, just for a day. Surely the station could do without her for a few hours. Of course, there was the power fluctuations to be considered, and a delegate from the recently discovered Tanii people was due to arrive to negotiate food for minor labor and medical assistance. Then there was a meeting with Teyla and Norak to discuss the incoming crops from the mainland, and their proper distribution, there were reports to be reviewed, Carson's weekly medical log to be read and the update on the new viral scanner, and at some point she had to fit in a meal. Her vacation would have to wait.

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Rodney knew he was asleep. It was those damn pills no doubt. He lay there in the dark, everything silent around him, the surroundings stifled and hot and sticky. And rank. He didn't want to breathe, the air was putrid. His nose wrinkled in distaste and he opened his eyes, blinking. He saw nothing.

That wasn't right. Oh, of course, he was still dreaming. That was it. He was in a dream, laying there, realizing he was dreaming. Except. . .he wasn't. He was just laying there in the dark.

He waited. Nothing happened.

Okay, this was ridiculous. He tried to sit up. His head bumped against something hard, something just inches above him. He reached up and felt a soft, satiny material, sightly puckered. "What the. . ." he pushed at it, and it didn't give. His fingers trailed the material over his face, and down beside him, the same satiny puckered feel. Just inches from him, cushioned beneath him, all around. Everywhere.

Inches from him.

Oh. . .GOD.

Frantically he pressed his palms to the lid. He pressed and pounded at the sides, kicked at the base, yelling until his voice gave. The air was hot, so hot, and he couldn't see, and the smell was so bad. . .he felt something drop onto his face and gave his head a quick shake, swiping at it with his hand. Something stuck to his sweaty cheek, and again he swiped, then realized what he was wiping away was his own dead, decaying skin, and his hand had become bone. . .

"Rodney! For god's sake, wake up!"

Rodney sat up, gasping, and promptly leaned over the bed and vomited. Carson quickly stepped aside, nodding at a nurse who immediately went for the cleaning supplies. "Rodney? Easy now, easy. You were having a dream, easy."

Rodney looked up.

Carson was a skeleton.

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"What do you mean, he's gone?" Sheppard stared at Beckett.

"I mean I left to go and check the medical stock like I always do this time of day, and when I came back he had gone!"

"Where was your nurse?"

"I was in supply! How the bloody hell should I know? Maybe she had to take a pee!"

Sheppard grabbed the distraught man by the shoulder. "Okay, easy. You said he was better, is he good to leave?"

"Aye, I was going to release him today, but it isn't like Rodney to just walk out no matter how badly he wants to!"

"Right. I'll go find him." Sheppard rushed past Carson, who called out, "and when you do, give him a right thrashing for me, bloody pig-headed bastard!"

Sheppard knew Carson was livid. He was pretty close to it himself, especially since through his radio contacts, no one had seen him. He wasn't at the lab, nor was he in the gate room. Possibly in his own quarters, then? That would be the first place on the list to look, and it stood to reason that the man would need a set of clothes. Sheppard made a quick about face and ran to Rodney's quarters, skidding to a stop in front of the door.

This time when he opened it, he remained in the hall until he was certain that Rodney wasn't lurking in the shadows. And he wasn't. He was in the corner, staring at his hands. He had his pants on, but nothing else.

"Rodney?" John cautiously entered. Rodney didn't look up, he just continued to stare at his hands. The fingers were reddened, and he picked at them. "You okay?"

Rodney said nothing.

John swallowed. This wasn't right, this wasn't anywhere close to being right. This wasn't Rodney McKay. Rodney wasn't. . .like this. He reached up and slowly grasped the man's wrists, drawing them apart from each other, and that was when he got Rodney's attention. The blue eyes were fearful. "Major?"

"Rodney, what the hell's going on?"

"It. . .I-I was. . ." his gaze wandered to the floor, and John realized that Rodney wasn't acting like he lost his mind, but more like he was trying to come to terms with something. His gaze snapped back. "I was dead." He looked Sheppard up and down. "Why are you here?"

"You left the infirmary without saying goodbye. Carson's pretty pissed."

"Did I?" He seemed to take in his surroundings for the first time. "I was trying to get out, but the skin was coming off. I couldn't get out."

"Of the infirmary?"

Rodney met his eyes. "Of the coffin."

John's face twisted. "What coffin?"

"I was in a coffin. I thought I was in a bed, but it was hot and I couldn't breathe, and I realized I was. . ." He shuddered.

John fell silent for a moment. He had no words for this, nothing that would ease that obviously distressed mind. "Look, it was a dream. You've been through a lot lately, your mind is just playing with you. You nearly drowned for god sake, maybe you're still thinking about that."

"Yeah." He didn't sound totally convinced. "Except. . ."

"Except?"

"I smelled it. That day in the commissary. I. . .smelled the decay, and it smelled just like that coffin."

John's expression was pinched. He squeezed Rodney's wrists, then let them go. Nothing more was said, he just sat down beside his friend.


	7. Chapter 7

"Kate, I don't know what to do. He needs to talk to someone. Something's eating at him, and if he doesn't get a good night's sleep soon, it's going to affect his job performance. I'll have to ground him." John stood in the doorway of Kate's office, not daring to step in further in case she was bored and needed to analyze something.

Dr. Kate Heightmeyer, established head-case surgeon, nodded. "I can't force him to come to me, but I'm glad you told me this. Is there anyone he feels he can talk to?"

Sheppard thought about that. "No. He's not exactly the open type. Sure, if he's hurt or scared, but if something is bothering him? Not really."

"That's because he doesn't trust anyone."

"You think?"

Kate smirked. "You found him after he left the infirmary. Did you try talking to him then?"

Sheppard barked a laugh and studied the walls. "What am I supposed to say? 'Hey, sorry you're having bad dreams, get over it'? 'Grow some balls'?" His subtle glance met Kate's raised brow. "Look, if he needs touchy-feely, then he needs to come here."

"Oh, you think so?" Kate folded her arms, her voice sharp.

"Oh, come on, I didn't mean i that /i ."

"Since when were you an authority on what Rodney needs?"

"Since I'm going to have to be the one to tell him that if he doesn't get his head on straight, he's booted from the next mission!"

"How's his ankle?"

Sheppard frowned. "Excuse me?"

She annunciated carefully. "How is his ankle?"

"Fine! I guess, I didn't exactly ask him."

"No, you sat with him on the floor, then patted his head like a puppy and walked out."

Sheppard crossed the room in three steps. "That is not what happened! I sat with him. I waited forever for him to talk, but he wouldn't. He finally got dressed and limped outta there, so I guess his ankle is just peachy!" He realized he was yelling, and blinked as he pulled back.

Kate let her arms fall and gave a small smile as she turned. "You're feelings of inadequacy is getting the better of you, John."

"What the – what's that supposed to mean?"

She threw her hands up in the air. "Why are men so fucking blind?" She rounded on him, looking like his mom did before the spankings commenced. "You want to help. You say you can't. And furthermore, the fact that you care enough about him to want to help is driving you crazy. You can't stand it. He's an egotistical brat of a scientist, and yet you care enough to seek help for him. What self-respecting soldier would do that?"

Sheppard was already shaking his head. "That's not it at all. We've been through things. He's important here. If something is wrong then we, as a city, are as good as screwed!"

She folded her arms. "And so you take it upon yourself to fix him. Touching."

Sheppard had no idea where she was going with this. "I'm saying, I am acting in the city's best interest."

"Not in the interest of a friend."

What the hell did she want from him? "Fine! He's a friend. Okay? I'm concerned. There, I said it. Happy now?"

"Are you?"

He knew he shouldn't have entered her office. "Dammit, I'm not the one on trial here! I. . .Christ, forget it. He'll probably feel worse after talking to you."

"I don't think he's ready to talk to me. I'm too distant. When he's ready to analyze, I'll be here. But right now he needs someone he can trust, and as much as I'd like to get my hopes up, I'm not that person. So you have a decision to make, John. Are you going to open that path, or should we find someone else who can?"

Sheppard glared. "You're a bitch, you know that?"

"And you lie to yourself. I have no time for it." Her look turned cold. "Unless you're willing to do more, don't pawn this off on me. He needs you, John. You're the closest thing to a friend he's got here. Just accept that and move on, will you?"

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Rodney stared at his face. He rubbed at it, waiting for the skin to roll away, but it stayed. Thank god. He sniffed and wet his hands, lathered them, and rubbed the soap along his cheekbones, over the stubble, around his mouth, over his forehead. Nice, intelligent forehead. Good bone structure. Cupping his hands underneath the flow, he splashed the coolness on his face and looked up as the water dripped from his chin. Stared at his reflection, studying his eyes. He took a deep, steadying breath. He looked too damn tired, but at least he was sleeping in abbreviated naps. Just enough to keep his system from completely shutting down. He dried his hands and wiped his neck and chest. Shuffled back, the hem of his pants just scuffing the floor, and stood in the middle of his small room. His black shirt was flung over a chair, and he forced himself to walk over to it, pick it up, sniff it, and pull it over his head. He dug his socks from the pile sitting in the chair and sat on his bed, reluctant to move. For god's sake, all he had to do was bend and pull the damn things over his feet. His ankle throbbed, but was tolerable. With any luck he could get a boot on today. He glanced at the wrap sitting beside his bed, dismissed it, pulling on his socks and boots and tying the laces tightly. And again, he sat.

What was on the agenda for the day? Meeting with Weir, of course, that was standard practice. He wanted to work on that particle transformer if at all possible. Maybe run into a certain redhead he had been eyeing. And of course, ohyeah. He sighed. Power fluctuations. He pushed himself from the mattress, and sniffed. Sniffed again.

Shit.

He didn't want to look. He didn't want to, but his steps moved him towards the mirror in the bathroom. His face looked normal, but the one behind him didn't. He spun, but nothing was there.

That was it. He'd had it. He grabbed his jacket angrily, to uncover a snarling corpse sitting in the chair, a rotten hand reaching out to snatch it back. Rodney yelled and jumped back. He ran out of his room, spinning into the wall opposite, gasping for breath and ignoring the looks thrown at him. Swallowed heavily. Regained his composure, and hurried down the hall.

Why he was in front of her door again, he had no clue. Fist raised, the pounds echoed down the curved hallway. The door opened to reveal her surprised face, calm and beautiful, and incredibly reassuring. "Dr. McKay!" She frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes, something is very wrong." Rodney was suddenly self-conscious, but felt enough desperation to ask, "Can I come in?"

"By all means." Teyla stepped back and gestured for him to enter, keeping her full attention on the distraught man. He was wringing his hands, beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead. "Please," she placed a pillow on a small chair and waved her hand towards it. The bed creaked as she sat on it, and waited.

Rodney sat stiffly, his hands working. He looked around. "This-this is nice. Real nice. Very – very. . .tribal."

"Is there something I can do for you, Dr. Mc. . ."

"Rodney. I mean, not like we don't put our lives on the line together, huh?" He tried a smile, but it fell.

"How is your ankle?"

"Huh? Oh, fine, well, actually it hurts like hell but I'm pretty sure Carson's all caught up in some real emergency and doesn't have time for a hobbling scientist to just. . ." he caught Teyla's patient expression. "Sorry. Truth is, uh. . .I don't know why I'm here."

"This is not the first time you have come to me in a moment of crisis."

"Crisis? Who said I was having a crisis?"

"Dr. Mc. . .Rodney, it is obvious something is troubling you deeply." Her eyes revealed the sincerity she felt. "We only wish to help."

Rodney lifted his chin, ready to deny everything, but his words startled him. "I've been having dreams. Really nasty ones." He swallowed, uncertain as to exactly how to progress.

Teyla stood softly. "Would you like some tea, perhaps?"

He looked startled. "Sure. Yes, thank you. Tea, tea would be good right now."

"You may talk as I prepare it."

"Thank you." He gave his head a shake, finding himself sucked into her formality. "I uh, I've been having these dreams ever since we returned from that underwater not-Atlantis. I. . ." he fell silent, and it wasn't until he took a sip from the cup in his hands several minutes later that he was able to gather his thoughts. "I'm dead in these dreams," he continued softly, painfully. "Decaying, a morbid corpse. Sometimes I see other corpses, and. . .it's the most terrifying. . .I can't sleep anymore. I don't think I've slept more than six hours in the past five days. I lie awake, my body rests, but if I start to drift," he shook his head. "I can't! I can't stand the thought of it."

"Has Dr. Beckett given you anything to help you relax?"

"Those damn pills make it worse. Now I'm seeing things when I'm awake." Her eyes widened, and he amended. "I'm not losing it. I just see reflections, and I smell rot. I'm sure it's fatigue."

"Have you told anyone else of these waking visions?"

Rodney paused at her choice of words. "No, not so much. Just you."

"And why me?"

Rodney felt his words catch. Truth was he hardly talked to the Athosian unless field action warranted it. Not that he didn't like the woman, he just had no need. The fact that he was there, in her room, opening up to her like this was disconcerting to say the least. "I don't know. You just seem so. . .tranquil, I mean, when you're not poking someone's eye out with those sticks of yours. I don't suppose the name Xena means anything to you?" A raised brow was his only response.

Rodney looked down at his tea. He could feel the fear radiating from him, smell the bitterness of rotten meat. Oh no, not again. His breath caught, his body stiffening in a way that made Teyla set down her drink and stand. "There, see? How can you not smell that?"

Teyla sniffed at the air like a wolf. "I smell nothing."

"God, it's rancid!" He stood, eyeing her room. "Do you keep meat in here? You do realize it has to be kept at a proper temperature, otherwise. . ."

"There is nothing here, Rodney! Please sit down. . ."

"No! No, I can't sit. I'll fall asleep, and I can't fall asleep, I can't. . ." desperation pulled at his features, and tears pooled in his eyes. Teyla walked over quickly and grabbed his hands. "I'm going crazy, aren't I?" he whispered. "Something's wrong with me."

"You are not going crazy. You merely need sleep." Teyla took his head in her hands and forced him to gaze into her eyes. He did so, finding himself calm slightly. She nodded and put her hands on his shoulders, bending her head down towards him.

"Wha - oh!" He awkwardly put his hands on her shoulders, feeling the smooth skin and bone, and lowered his head to hers. He caught his breath, drifted on a wave of calm, then fell to his knees in sobs as she held him.

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"Dr. Weir, may we talk with you about Dr. McKay?" Teyla hovered in the doorway of Elizabeth's office, with Sheppard and Beckett behind her.

"Of course." Elizabeth stopped gathering her papers. She looked at her pile. "I guess since we're all here instead of the briefing room we can just. . ."

"This is a personal matter, we did not wish someone to walk in on our discussion." Teyla took a seat. The men behind her remained standing, respectfully.

Elizabeth didn't like the looks on their faces. "Is Rodney okay?"

"I'm not sure." Carson shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his lab coat. "Elizabeth, the man is on the verge of a nervous collapse. He isn't sleeping, he's apparently suffering from waking hallucinations, and he refuses to seek help. Dr. Zelenka has reported rather erratic behavior the in lab."

"He's headed for la-la land," Sheppard cut in. "In this condition he can't go on off-world missions, much less try and cope with the threat at hand."

"Is this stressed induced?"

"Aye, I think that has a lot to do with it. But it is the nature of his visions that bother me."

Sheppard smirked. "He sees dead people."

"I don't think you're taking this very seriously, son!" Carson reprimanded.

"I'm taking it just as seriously as the next guy! I just wanted to say that line." Carson merely glared, and John backed down. "Carson's right. Whatever these dreams are, they're terrifying him. I mean more so than regular run of the mill nightmares."

"And he won't talk to anyone?"

"He has come to me," Teyla said, "and spoken of these dreams. He does see things when he is awake, and he is frightened. I do not believe he knows how to ask for help in this situation."

Sheppard looked guilty. "I may be the cause of that."

Weir raised a brow. "How do you mean?"

"The other day I was egging him on, trying to get him to attack me." She looked alarmed. "We were sparring, okay? In the training room. I told him he went out of his way to. . .get attention."

"You didn't."

"I think maybe I clammed him up."

Weir nodded, her disapproving gaze settled on his. "What do we do?"

"Take him off duty for a day or more for medical observation. Induce sleep." Carson's voice was firm.

"Are you sure we can we spare him?"

"At this point it would be better to spare him for a day than permanently. Dr. Zelenka can fill in, and has offered to do so. Truth of it is, he's been covering for Rodney for the past few days."

"Rodney's not going to like this."

"It isn't up to him."

She nodded. "Do it."


	8. Chapter 8

Getting him into the infirmary was too easy. The man was dead on his feet, lying on Teyla's bed where she had left him. They practically carried him to Beckett, ignoring the stare of those they passed. Some were concerned. More were curious. And Rodney was protesting, of course, with limp reasoning. Teyla stepped aside as they drew the curtain, and Sheppard waved away the nurse, helping Carson to unclothe the man and put scrubs on him. They lay Rodney back, and even then, he was fighting, talking about his projects and the power spike and how he had a theory, but it was all babble on top of babble, designed to keep his mind active. He had one coherent moment, when he saw the needle. "No shots."

"Rodney. . ."

"I said no shots!"

"It's the only way to guarantee you'll rest!"

"There is too much to do for me to rest! I'll rest when this is over."

"There hasn't been a power spike in the last eighteen hours."

"So we're overdue."

"I'm saying, I think they can do without you for a while."

"So you think I'm superfluous?"

"I think you're being a right ass! Now roll up your sleeve."

"What?"

"Do it, Rodney, or we'll do it for you." And he did, and yelled out as the shot in his arm jolted him back to reality, and then he was under.

Sheppard hovered for a few moments, watching as sensors were attached to Rodney's head, to his chest, and a blood pressure monitor clipped to his finger. He was asleep. Finally.

But he wasn't resting.

His face twitched. His fingers jumped slightly, reaching for letters and symbols that weren't there. His eyelids betrayed the hidden activity beneath. The man was working in his sleep.

Sheppard decided he couldn't watch anymore. It was disturbing, to say the least. He turned on his heel, and ran into Teyla just outside. It was obvious from the way she matched his stride that she had been waiting for him. "Major Sheppard, may I speak with you?"

It was hard not to roll his eyes. He just wanted to be alone. "What is it, Teyla?"

She looked confused. "I'm not sure. I just feel. . .I feel like I should apologize."

"What on earth for?"

"That is a good question." She turned to face him. "Did you not talk to Dr. McKay when you said you would?"

Sheppard paused mid-step, then continued walking. "I didn't have the chance."

"Are you not his friend?

What was with everyone's twenty questions concerning him and McKay? "Rodney? Don't know if I'd call it friendship."

Teyla raised her eyebrows knowingly.

"Oh, come on! Rodney? Mr. Egotistical-hyprocondriac- unconscious prone" he sought for words.

"Friend?"

"Maybe."

"Talk to him."

"He blows me off more than anyone!"

"Perhaps he is afraid you will press judgement upon him."

"Moi? And since when does he care what others think?"

Teyla reached out to grab his arm, stopping him. "Since it started to threaten his work."

"Okay." Sheppard shook off her grip. "Let me get one thing straight. I don't know why everyone seems to be pushing me to get Rodney back on his feet. I can't do it. I don't have any kind of mojo magic, there is no special bond, there is nothing that I can do that anyone else can do. Why is everyone coming to me for a cure?"

"Who else has confronted you about this?"

"Dr. Heightmeyer, for one."

"She is perceptive."

This conversation was becoming increasingly annoying. "How?"

"I believe whatever happened in that other city has affected him greatly. You were there with him. You know what he experienced first hand, do you not?"

Sheppard leaned in. "If you mean did I drag him out of a hole, yes. That doesn't mean I can fix it," he said slowly.

"But you can understand."

"No, I can't! I don't know what he's going through, and I wish everyone would stop trying to make me crawl into that matrix to find out! I don't need to know more about Rodney McKay, I don't want to know more about Rodney McKay, and that's that!"

"Because you are afraid of what you will find." The sentence was said with finality, and she stared to walk off.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. What the hell do you mean by that?"

Teyla had that all-knowing look on her face that he found irritating. "He was not the only one affected down there. You came to a realization yourself, and you are fighting it with everything you have. Your relationship has always been unique. Somehow you've passed a point that you can not venture from."

"Wait." He laughed. "You make it sound like I've fallen for him or something!"

"No." She smiled. "But there is a realization, just the same, and you are fighting it." She held out her hands helplessly. "That is all I can say. But everyone knows. The two of you, what it is you say. . .you click. Why can you not allow yourself a friend in Rodney McKay?"

His gaze turned hard. "Because friends die out here. Or hadn't you noticed?"

Her eye narrowed. "Is that what troubles you? You are afraid of death?"

"Mine? No. His?" The question poked at him. "Somewhat."

Her brows raised in acknowledgment. "Then there is hope. You would not fear if you did not care."

"Now see, there it is again! Why is everyone so convinced that I care?"

"Because you do," she said firmly. "Because you are the only one who can free him of this, and yet you won't do it."

"And again. . ."

"He told me, Major." Her voice softened. "When he lay back on my bed. He asked for you, he said you would know how to fix things. There is something more going on that he isn't telling us, and the only way he will tell you is if you let him. You have to let him."

"Just that easy."

"If you wish."

Sheppard felt cornered. He studied the floor, his teeth grinding together. His head snapped up, his gaze avoiding hers, and his fist pounded a rhythm against his leg. "He reminds me of someone," John admitted. "It didn't even occur to me until we were down there, I guess because that's the most time I've spent with the man. This. . .someone, was brilliant. I'm talking scary smart. We used to play these games where we'd try and outguess the other, and the one that lost had to take a dare. It could be anything, riddles, math problems, trivia. Football scores from ten years back. He was good, until we got to the football, because he was into soccer." He saw Teyla watching, her full attention gripped by his words. "I dared him to climb to the top of our oak tree. It was huge, and we were pretty small. He was so determined, he climbed straight up. And a few moments later, he fell.

"He broke his collar bone and his spine. He was so determined to be right, to best me, because he knew I had never been up that tree. And he was pissed off that he got the question wrong. It was stupid, sending him up there, because there were rotten branches, it was an old tree, and I knew he might, just might, fall." He took a deep breath. "I was jealous. Pure and simple. I wanted to hurt him. I couldn't stand that he was smarter and better, and he was. I sent him up there out of spite. I hoped he would fall."

Teyla nodded slowly. "And you blame yourself for his injuries."

Sheppard shook his head. "No, you don't get it. He was never able to walk again. He was paralyzed, unable to move anything but his mouth, blink his eyes. He had an head injury which was looked at, but no one realized how severe it was. It slowly shut down that brilliant mind of his." Sheppard's eyes were closed tightly as he fought the memories. "I would visit him, and he would just glare at me. He blamed me. He died blaming me."

Teyla's face was tight in sympathy. She rubbed his arm. "I am sorry," she said slowly. "That is a terrible thing for anyone to go through, especially a child." She gave him a moment, then added, "But I do not see what this has to do with Dr. McKay."

Sheppard fought to control his breathing. "I nearly did the same thing with him," he whispered. "Dammit, I like the man. I really do. But for one moment," he gritted his teeth, "just. . .one. . .moment, I wanted him to take that bitch's offer. I wanted him to ascend."

"Why did you wish this?"

"Because he was irritating me! Because he wanted it so bad! Because I'd had it up to here," he pointed to his head, "with his smart ass mouth! Because I wanted to see if he was really as brilliant as he claims, if he was worthy of it! I wanted to laugh when the ancients got a taste of him and spat him back out!"

"And yet you prevented him."

"And what would have happened if I didn't, huh? He'd be in the clutches of that creature, or dead, I don't know."

"Then you did the right thing."

Sheppard pulled back. "No, see, you still don't get it! I wanted to do the wrong thing. I wanted to test him. I wanted to see if he would actually do it, if he would live up to what that damned mouth of his was saying. And I would have lost the closest friend I've had in years!" He stopped, mentally jerked aside by what he had just said.

Teyla managed a small, soothing smile. She took Sheppard's hands. "You did the right thing. We all have our moments of evil thoughts, of lashing out at others. Yours just showed you what you have, is worth fighting for."

Sheppard just looked confused. Teyla released his hands. "Go to him, when he wakes. Help him. Whatever plagues him has something to do with that city, and I believe it will relieve both your demons." She gave a firm nod, boding no argument, and walked on. Sheppard remained, staring at the wall where she had been.

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She was there, over him. She knelt down, one knee on either side of him, her hands on his chest. Her skin was electric yet silky, and he felt waves of pleasure that he had never experienced before. Such ease, such bliss. Calm, carefree. No fear. "Do you remember?" Datanunana whispered.

"Yes," Rodney said softly.

"And you agree?"

"I – can't. . ."

"You prefer the alternative?"

"Why are you doing this to me?"

She smiled. "Am I doing this, or are you doing this to yourself?" Claws shot out from her fingertips, digging into his ribs.

He yelled out and tried to sit up, but was pinned underneath a lead weight. Her fingers dug in further, blood welling stickily around the wounds. "I will drain you here."

"NO! What. . .what are. . ." everything was spinning, darkening. . .

His eyes snapped open, but he didn't care look down. He studied the ceiling above him and panicked, because he knew it was bearing down on him, crushing him. The cart beside him crashed as he bolted upright and threw himself from the bed, tearing his IV from his arm. He heard an exclamation, felt someone near him but shoved the body away. There were more voices, yelling, shouting, hands grabbing at him, and he heard his voice cry out over the mix, heard his own screams as he tried to tear away from the grips that would lead him back to hell. One voice was familiar, and he recognized it as the voice he heard before hell. Everything was before and after hell, and there was no longer any way to distinguish between the two. Waking hell, sleeping hell, heavy weight holding him down, holding his arms and legs and forcing him to the ground. He growled deep in the back of his throat, a feral threat, and felt a needle prick his skin. He went limp. The grips fell back, and he was hauled to his feet. But there was one last bout of defiance in him.

He caught a glimpse of her in the glass near him. With one powerful aim, he shattered it.


	9. Chapter 9

"You did what?" Sheppard couldn't believe what he was seeing. There was no way. . . .

Carson was in no mood to be ridiculed. "It was for his own good, Major, just look at his hand!" Sheppard could see, plainly, the red seeping through the white gauze. "Both nurses McCall and Myers are suffering from minor head injuries. He was like an animal backed into a corner, Major. I can't describe it any other way, and for the moment, this is the only way I can restrain him."

When one looked at Rodney McKay, one could picture a bad temper. But not violence. The straps that held his wrists to the bed were tight. He wouldn't be able to move if he tried. "For how long?"

"Just until he proves he's in his right mind." Beckett sighed. "I don't mind telling you, Major, there's more going on here than just a lack of sleep." He pulled an EEG scan. "Look at this brainwave activity. This isn't normal for someone who is sleeping. This is the scan of someone who is in the throes of work, or an adrenaline rush."

Sheppard examined the active lines. "That explains the sleepwalking."

"There's more." Carson produced a different chart. "It has to do with the parts of the brain being used. Now this lobe is usually associated with REM sleep, which he isn't getting. But here," he pointed to a small spot, "this should almost shut down completely. However, it is the most active."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning not only is he not getting sleep, he is being pushed to the limits of reasonable human endurance during his down time. This is the reading of someone well on their way to a total mental collapse."

"Oh. . ." Sheppard suddenly sank, and Carson guided him to a chair.

"Are you alright, son?"

John had to smile. It amused him the way the Scotsman insisted on calling people 'son' whether they were of an age, or older. The situation caused him to sober quickly. "He gonna be okay, right?"

"I don't know. I can't figure out what's triggering this." A distressed moan pulled the doctor's attention from Sheppard to the bed. Rodney was slowly moving his head, wincing.

"Rodney?" Carson walked to him, placing a steady, firm hand on his chest. "How do you feel?"

Rodney just looked at him for a moment, and both men could see his gaze shift into recognition. He cocked his head for a better view. "Carson?" His voice was very soft. "What's going on?" His hands pulled at the restraints. Rodney looked down, then met Carson's eyes with a panicked expression.

"Easy, Rodney. Hang on a moment." He started to loosen the straps. "What do you remember?"

"Uh. . .nothing. I-I don't remember anything."

"Do you feel better, then?"

"I, uh. . .yeah, I guess so. Not rested really, but better? Maybe."

"That's not much of an answer, Rodney." Sheppard walked to the other side of the bed. "You realize you put two nurses on the floor, and not for the reasons you may hope."

"What are you talking about?" His voice was distracted as he concentrated on Carson releasing the straps.

"You had a dream. Looks like the sedatives aren't getting the job done."

"Oh." Rodney let his head fall back onto his pillow. Empty eyes gazed at nothing, setting Sheppard's nerves on edge. He carefully pulled the doctor aside.

"Isn't there anything else you can do?"

"I can increase the dosage. But that will knock him out for a very long time, and quite frankly, I'm not sure Dr. Weir would approve."

"It's better than him losing his mind!"

"It is, yes. And should it come to that, I'll do it. Right now I want to keep him under observation, he's plainly exhausted. With any luck this last burst of energy will do him in."

"You don't seriously think that." Sheppard allowed himself a smirk of disbelief.

"No, I don't. However, that is what I'm going to do, until I have a better answer. Rest assured, if he does not sleep on his own by this evening, I'll have no choice."

"Rest assured, huh?" Sheppard winced. It sounded so scheming, really. Plotting to keep Rodney out of the loop, when he was the two ends that held the loop together. One end being that brilliant mind, the other being his boundless energy and dogged enthusiasm. This time both seemed to be doing him in.

Carson left Sheppard, going back to his small office. The major watched Rodney, who hadn't moved. His eyes did seem to be drooping, and his body was relaxing. And at that moment, the power blinked. Sheppard's shoulders sagged, and he hurried from the infirmary.

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"Can you trace it?" Weir asked, taking the stairs two at a time. This was getting old.

"The power spike was near the arboretum. That is an odd place for one, isn't it?" Lt. Chen frowned and looked up, her perfectly articulated English overlaid with puzzlement.

"Not when you consider the fact that there's a generator and several power relays outlets on that level," Johnson said, peering over her shoulder. "Plus the climate has to be perfectly maintained, if we have any hopes of maintaining proper function. I know Lindsay would piss if her ferns died."

Weir joined them. "Is there a reason for the spike? Where did we lose power this time?"

"Looks to have been routed from the jumper bays." Johnson shook his head. "This makes no damn sense."

"At least this one was inconsequential." She looked up as Radek flew up the stairs to join them. "Dr. Zelenka, have you found something?"

"No, not as such. But. . .I think I can predict the next one. I want to be certain."

"How?" Weir followed him to a set of large control units.

"I checked all of the relays during the last spike, and compared them with the previous five." He nodded and straightened, pointing to the screen. "There, see? There is a pattern, not much, but it's there."

Weir leaned in, wincing at the points on the screen, but it made no sense to her. "I'm sorry, I don't follow."

"Very difficult to explain right now, but if I am right, the next spike will hit in about three hours," he pointed, "here."

"The infirmary?"

"Yes."

"How can you be sure?"

Radek gave a half-hearted shrug. "I cannot. But is best I have, and if I am right, we can predict it and stop it. We are working on a blocker that will hopefully diffuse the extra energy that is being transmitted from one point to another."

"Have we ruled out human involvement?"

"I am hoping if we can block this source, whomever is responsible will be exposed while trying to reroute the power." Again, he shrugged an apology. "It will be more difficult, and take time."

"I see. Any idea why the last few spikes have been minor transfers? The earlier spikes were something to be concerned about, now this is nothing more than a nuisance."

"Which confirms the idea that someone is involved," Radek pointed out. "They are hiding."

Elizabeth shook her head. "No, I'm sorry, I don't buy that. It doesn't make sense."

"Dr. Weir, none of this makes sense. The way the power itself is being transferred shouldn't be able to happen. But it is, and this is what I have."

"Of course." She nodded and turned as Sheppard approached. "How's our patient?"

"Sleeping, hopefully. What's going on here?"

Weir sighed. "More the same, only on a smaller scale."

"No clues?"

"You like mysteries?" She gestured to the panels before her. "Here's one for you."

"I take it that's a 'no'."

Weir's frustration was obvious. "Major, as far as I've been told, there is no logical reason for these spike to happen. Now they started small, became dangerous, and they've died down. That tells me that the only way to go is up, and I'm afraid the results could be disastrous." She pulled him aside. "Listen, I need for you to do some heavy searching. If someone is responsible for this, we need to apprehend them before someone gets hurt."

Sheppard studied the seriousness in her face. "You know something we don't?"

"Call it intuition. There's something not right about this, something we're missing."

Sheppard knew how she felt. It was like a jigsaw puzzle with huge pieces that should be so easy to assemble, yet those last few pieces didn't fit. "Well, I wasn't going to say anything. . ."

"You feel it too."

Her voice was confidential. This was his friend, Elizabeth, talking, not Dr. Weir. Sheppard nodded. "Yeah. This definitely isn't right." He glanced at Zelenka, bent over the console. "I don't think we're looking in the right place. Tracing these spikes is putting us behind the person doing this, not in front. We're tagging him. Even if we can start to predict them, we're one step behind."

"What I want to know it, why do this? Why cause a minor nuisance?"

Sheppard was staring at the gate. She recognized that look, and caught his arm. "Major?"

But he was headed to Zelenka, shrugging off her grip. "Radek, every time there is a spike, it's because the power is being transferred from one part of the station to another. Right?"

"In a large quantity that levels out, yes."

"But there's no sign of a power loss."

"There is a slight drain, almost undetectable. Anytime you transfer power from one source to another, you will lose minute amounts in that transfer. It is not enough to cause concern."

"Unless those minute bits of power are being stored elsewhere." Radek looked up sharply. "No, no, stay with me here." Sheppard stared talking more quickly. "Would it be possible to set of a series of transfers with the sole intent of draining power from the station, or from one generator to another, just enough to run a piece of machinery or jumper or something?"

"A jumper requires much more, but something small, if done enough times. . .maybe." Radek was confused. "You're saying someone is stealing the residual energy?"

"Exactly! It provides the perfect cover; we're busy trying to get this under control," he tapped the screen, "and not even worried about the 'minute' source being drained away."

Radek bent over his console, tapping at the screen. "The first loss was two percent, and it was irreplaceable. Now I can calculate the loss for the other spikes, give me just a moment. . ." they waited patiently, ". . .there. So far total loss is four point eight percent."

"That doesn't sound like much," Weir said.

"In the grand scheme of things, it isn't," Radek agreed, "but we don't yet know what may happen."

"And you think the next spike will occur in the infirmary?" she asked.

"If what the major says is true," Radek responded, "it is possible that who ever is responsible is getting precise measurements of power at precise times." He was studying the screen again. "It is possible that a large enough surge directed towards the infirmary will provide a three percent loss if not more."

"And a three percent gain for them."

"What would that kind of spike do to the infirmary?" Weir asked.

Radek's lips drew in a tight line. "It would knock out their supply. It would cripple them for some time. If anyone was near the mechanics. . ."

"We can't evacuate the infirmary, it would let whoever is responsible know what's going on."

Sheppard was lightly pounding his fist on the console as he thought. "I'll talk to Carson. Maybe we can shut down as much as necessary, call it recovery maintenance. That'll save their equipment, and prevent the three percent loss."

"That is if I can accurately predict the spike," Radek reminded them, "and all I have to go on are the estimates from former readings. I cannot get into the mind of person doing this."

"Do what you can." Weir said, nodding at them both as she responded to a call in the distance. She walked across the room to bend over another screen.

Radek stared at the screen, motionless for a moment, then looked up at Sheppard. He looked tired. "How is Rodney?"

Sheppard slowly took the seat next to him. "Oh, you know. Cranky. Irritable. Pissed."

"Good, then."

"Getting there."

Radek nodded, his gaze still far off. When he spoke, his voice was low. "I worry. He takes too much on himself, like he is only person to get things done. The arrogance I don't mind so much. I mind that he will run himself down, then where are we?" He sighed. "He is a friend."

Sheppard crossed his arms as he leaned back in the chair. The easy admission came almost as a shock to him. What the hell was wrong with it, with him? He understood the concern, but wasn't sure how to respond to it. "Don't underestimate yourself. You're at least as smart as he is, and a hell of a lot easier to work with."

Radek gestured helplessly. "I cannot solve this. He would have solved this, said 'Radek, you are blind fool. Here is the answer'."

"You have a theory. We'll see what happens, and if it isn't right, you'll come up with another theory."

"I need proof!" He slammed his fist onto the console in a rare show of anger, distracting his co-workers. He sighed and covered his face. "I am sorry. I am. . . very tired."

Sheppard had leaned forward at his outburst. He winced in sympathy, and patted Radek's shoulder. "Look, take it easy," he said quietly. "Why don't you go get some air. Clear your head."

Radek sniffed and straightened. "No, I am fine. Thank you. There is much to be done here, I will rest once I prove my theory."

"And I thought McKay was stubborn." Sheppard gave a small grin in response to Radek's silent laugh, and left the man to his work.

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Rodney opened his eyes. Good god. . .he slept. He actually slept, the kind of full, intense sleep usually accompanied by open windows and crisp, clean sheets. His sigh was deep and relaxed, and a smile formed on his face, turning into a grin as Carson walked over to him. "Well then, I see you feel much better!" His own smile mirrored his friend's.

"Better isn't the word for it! Whatever you put in that happy juice you gave me, you should market it as the perfect sleep aid."

Carson shook his head. "You did this on your own, Rodney. It wasn't my medicine."

"Really?" He generated something that good? "I should sleep more often."

Carson laughed. "Aye, that you should! Now let me check your blood pressure and such, and if you are up to it, we can sign you out of here." He picked up the blue cuff. "Nice flowers, by the way."

"Flowers?"

Carson gestured to the small table against the wall. "They're from the arboretum, I do believe. No idea who brought them, but your name is on the card."

Rodney frowned and stared at the petals. The chill that covered his body wouldn't go away.


	10. Chapter 10

Nothing happened for the next three days. No spikes. No surges, no transfers, much to Radek's combined pleasure and chagrin. Things were returning to normal on the station, or as normal as possible with the Wraith threat looming. Rodney had fallen into a cycle of work and rest, a little more rest than he usually allowed himself, but it cleared his mind, helped him to think. If he dreamed, he couldn't remember.

At the moment he was in his room, on his bed, his pillow braced behind him and his laptop propped on his legs. The lab was too hectic, he couldn't concentrate on his reading. This was why he usually worked so late into the night, when everyone else had vacated the labs, and he could read and study and enjoy. But lately sleep had taken over that private time. And after being interrupted for the fifth time to adjust a power coil or double check erroneous figures, he'd had enough.

His lap was burning slightly from the heat of the computer, but he didn't care. It was soothing. It was nice. His room was quiet, he was alone, there was someone knocking on the door. . .

Dammit.

He snapped the lid shut and called out in frustration. The door opened, and Sheppard walked in, looking a bit too casual in loose pants and t-shirt. Rodney didn't bother to hide his smirk. "Well. Almost got through the whole day without you. And you had to ruin that golden opportunity at a miracle."

"I guess this means you don't want to watch a movie?" He waved a DVD at Rodney, one brow quirked invitingly.

The scientist looked tempted, but shook his head as he reopened his laptop. "Too much to do, Major. You know, a city to save and all."

"Not everyone can be Superman."

"Right, so just leave it to me, will you?" He eyed the movie curiously. "Is that what that is?"

"Magnificent Seven. Original."

"What time?"

"Bout an hour?"

"You got popcorn? That cheesy kind?"

"Of course."

"Right". His head lowered, the blue of the screen reflecting on his face. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. "See you in an hour."

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An hour passed. And another, marking Rodney as late, and sending a grumpy major to go on a search. It was possible, probable even, that Rodney simply got caught up in his work and forgot, in fact it was damned likely. He should have just hauled the man down there. Waiting outside Rodney's door proved useless, and finally he let himself in and walked in to an empty room. Okay. Maybe he'd made some sort of discovery, then, and was in his lab. But that wasn't the case.

Sheppard found Rodney by fluke. The man was crouched in a deep corner, near an unused set of living quarters, wedged in between two large stained glass windows. The night sky reflected on the floor, fracturing into pale colors and shadows, and Rodney's face was barely hidden within the darkness.

It was a perfect ghostly scene from a movie. Sheppard was afraid to move for a moment, feeling that any measure of breath would shatter the glass frame he saw before him, encapsulating the moment in clarity. It was so vivid, it frightened him.

Rodney looked up. His eyes glinted. "Major?" The voice was uncertain.

"Rodney?" The illusion was shattered, but the situation still oddly surreal. "You okay?"

There was a moment, and the darkness spoke. "I'm fine."

"Yeah. . .which is why you're sitting in a corner in a dark hallway."

Rodney's gaze fell, pinpointing a spot on the floor between them. "No," he whispered.

Sheppard took a few steps forward and knelt. The man was sweating, knotting his fingers, rocking slightly. "Rodney?" He stayed before him, waiting for an explanation.

The man didn't want to talk. Sheppard could see that. His head jerked slightly in denial, his lips moved then clamped shut, his eyes closed tightly. He continued to rock.

Sheppard sat and leaned forward, taking hold of Rodney's arm. "Talk to me." When there was no response, he gripped harder. "Dammit, I said talk to me! I can't help you if I don't know what the problem is!" Did he really just say that?

"Can't help."

"You don't know that."

"I know." He chuckled, and his brows raised with inner realization. "I'm going crazy."

"Oh, come on. . ."

"Major," Rodney's eyes snapped up to meet his, "I'm serious. I'm going nuts. There's no other possible explanation for this."

"For what? And have you considered all work and no sleep might have something to do with it?"

"I've been sleeping, major!" He choked out a sound that sounded like a sob. "I can't keep doing this. I can't do it."

Sheppard was scared for him. He didn't like it. "Dammit McKay, tell me what the hell's going on!"

He didn't want to. That was obvious. The grip tightened, and provoked a response. "I – I'm being haunted."

Sheppard released his arm. "What?"

"There's something here. On this station."

It really sounded like fatigued-induced paranoia. "Why do you say that?"

There was a hesitation, and Rodney met his eyes, looking as serious as he ever had, drilling his words home and leaving no doubt behind. "Because. . . I fell asleep when you left. And it was lying beside me when I woke. It had its arm over me."

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The power surge didn't hit the infirmary.

It hit the gateroom. Two days later.

And all Rodney could do was watch.

He could feel Weir at his shoulder and wished she would back off. He shoved Sheppard out of the way as he rounded to another laptop, back to his control panel, to another laptop. "Dammit! There's nothing to trace!"

"What do you mean there's nothing to trace?" Sheppard snapped.

"I mean exactly what I said, Major! There is nothing to trace!" His voice was strained, pulling at his neck muscles as it forced its way out. His expression was focused, angry, and his fingers flew over the console. The tension could be seen in his back, in the stiff way he spun from one panel to another, listening to catastrophic reports from the city.

Johnson was on his radio, staying out of McKay's way, reporting trouble in machine-gunned bursts of speech. "Base levels flooded, containment gone. Labs four, four A and five are dark. Infirmary has no power. . .elevators are shut down. No backups." And right as he said this, everything around them went dark.

"Shit." Sheppard's voice was low. Everything was dead silent. Flashlights started to click on, and the sounds of shuffling replaced the explosion of voices. He swung his light to the faces of his friends, catching Weir's wide-eyed disbelief, Johnson's rather pragmatic expression. Rodney, bless his stubborn heart, and still bent over the console, trying his best to find some jolt, something lingering that could be boosted to fire up the lights, if nothing else. He straightened quickly. "There's gotta be a short in the system, we need to check the generators. . ."

"Right. I'm coming with you." He turned to Weir, who was listening to Johnson. She gave him a nod of acknowledgment, and jumped as a loud grinding noise caught her attention.

Everyone turned to the stargate. It was spinning, slowly.

Rodney blinked and walked to the edge of the balcony, pulled by the sight of something that shouldn't be happening. His fingers trailed over the railing as he slowly walked to the stairs, ignoring Sheppard's question.

He watched as it circled once, twice, picking up speed. He walked faster. His name was yelled down to him, and he beamed his light up to the voice, catching Sheppard's face. "This shouldn't be happening!" he called up to him.

"Which is a good reason for you to get your ass back up here!" And the room lit in a blue frenzy.

All of the chevrons activated at once, the blue aura filling the room. The gate continued to spin, faster and faster. The grinding noise became a whirr. "Oh, no. Shut it down." Rodney glared over his shoulder at Johnson. "Shut it down!"

"How?" Johnson yelled down, his voice high with tension. "How the hell am I supposed to do that with no power? How the hell is it spinning with no power?"

That same thought had crossed Rodney's mind, rather belatedly. The ring rotated faster and faster, the lights growing bright like a maniacal amusement park ride gone wild. Rodney half expected to hear crazed laughter from a nearby clown, like in a horror film. Instead he heard Sheppard yell for an evacuation of the control room, and felt his legs take him to the base of the gate, his eyes staring widely up at the chevrons before darting around the base. If this were the earth gate, there would be a plug, okay, four giant plugs, and he could pull them from their huge outlets. . . okay, so it took three people to disengage the earth gate manually but he didn't have time for that. He lunged forward, sliding on his knees and banging into the wall before ripping off a panel close to the floor, exposing iridescent wires. People were yelling and running, and above it all he could hear his name called like the angry roar of a lion. A moment later there was a hand on his shoulder, clutching his shirt, pulling him up. His collar choked him, and he had to follow. "I said now, Rodney!"

"Dammit, Major. I almost had it!" He pushed the hands away, not sure just what he almost had, but relying on pure instinct to move his fingers beyond fear. He pressed back down to the floor, feeling Sheppard hover right over him, to the point where his knee was painfully propped on Rodney's side as he peered in. "You mind?"

"Are you done yet?" The voice was a worried growl.

"Nearly." Rodney blocked out the sound of the gate, the odd smell of, well, burnt rock would be accurate if he'd thought it possible. His fingers wrapped around the wires, pulling one out and pushing another in, following a sequence that wasn't working. . .he finally pulled the crystal, and the gate whined to a halt. The room dimmed, and once again went dark.

Rodney lay his head on the cold floor, gasping, closing his eyes. He felt a hand on his ribs, and knew that Sheppard was settling beside him, allowing his adrenaline to ebb. "Good job," he muttered.

"Yeah," Rodney said with a small sigh, "thanks."

"Are the two of you all right?" Elizabeth called down, he face lit like a ghoul by an upturned flashlight.

Sheppard gave a wave. Rodney remained still, his eyes closed.

And was forced to slowly opened them.

Sheppard angled his own light to shine on Rodney, ready to help the man stand, when he was bowled over painfully. His elbow cracked against floor, and the light jerked up into Rodney's face. "What the hell was that for?"

"Did you see it?" Rodney was looking towards the ceiling, his face white with anxiety. "It was up there, did you see it?"

"See what?"

"The face! Like in that psuedo-Atlantis. It was here, it was right over us, staring at us."

Sheppard had slowly climbed to his feet, cutting his beam through the dark. "Nothing's there, Rodney."

"No. It was there, I promise it was."

"You're mind's messing with you. It's the dark, and you're just having a flashback of sorts. There's nothing up there."

"I'm telling you. . ."

Sheppard shone his light where Rodney was looking. "See? Nothing!" This was getting damned annoying. The problem was, he wasn't sure which was more annoying, the problem itself or not being able to fix it. And then there was the power fluctuations to worry about.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right." Rodney kept eyeing the room, guided by Sheppard's hand on his arm back towards the stairs. He sounded anything but certain, but managed to put on his professional face, and return to work.


	11. Chapter 11

WARNING This chapter contains a scene which may be offensive

The next several hours were spent in a frantic effort to restore power. The city was getting hot, even with the ocean breeze that seeped into the smaller, opened windows. Rodney had often marveled at the pure ingenuity of the Ancients to be able to keep such a large area under perfect climate control. He had previously found, quite by accident, that the city actually had a series of elemental controls, rather than what would pass for heating and air. Apparently it had to do with the sensors that took the average body heat accumulated in the highly populated parts of the city and adjusted the climate controls accordingly, which would explain why it was always warmer in the deserted parts of the city. And hopefully, it would explain why he was sweating now. He passed the arboretum, swinging his light past and trying not to think of the flowers he'd left in the infirmary. Maybe they were from Ashanta, a Nigerian who had brought her favorite plants to Atlantis from her homeland, and was horrified when Rodney found what passed as a central watering system; a set of sprinklers that jutted from the ceiling like fire extinguishers and released what seemed like cubic tons of water in forty second spurts. Over watered, her plants nearly died. Rodney, shamed by his action, rigged a greenhouse for them. Almost a hot house, it was kept very dry, and saved the only memory she had of her home. He hadn't seen her since. The incident had happened shortly before he stepped foot into the sub that lead him to hell. Maybe the flowers were her tokens of appreciation.

He doubted it.

In fact, he was starting to get a very, very bad feeling.

He tapped his radio. "Preparing to reroute controls." He studied the wall before him and removed a large piece of casing, then stepped inside a tiny room that made a closet seem like a dome stadium. His shoulders wedged as he leaned over to access the temporary backups, to see if there was any chance in hell that there was any power left anywhere on the station.

That was when his flashlight went out.

"Crap." Wedged in the darkness, he closed his eyes ad tried not to panic. He felt for the tiny crystal chips that served as capacitors. All were in place, and without light, that was about all he could say. "I need a light down here, mine went out. You know, someone really needs to rethink stocking the generic batteries and find a way to get some damn Duracells."

"Thought it was Energizer that keeps going and going."

"Durecells are last longer, Major. . .where are you?"

"Behind you." The loud voice at his shoulder made Rodney jump, knocking his head against the low ceiling.

"Dammit!" He managed to twist and take the light that was handed to him. "Thank you."

"Whatcha see?"

Rodney winced as the white glare lit the crystals. One was black. "Ah. Got it." He put his hand on the crystal and handed the light back to Sheppard. Using both hands, he gave a tug.

The flood lights came on in the corridor.

"Sweet." Sheppard reached into Rodney's pack and pulled out a replacement crystal. "You still need this?"

"Yes." He reached back without looking, and Sheppard put the crystal in his hand. A moment later, the hall was brightly lit.

"One down, seventeen to go." Sheppard backed away as Rodney withdrew himself from the closet space with pronounced grunts. He stopped, body bent over, hands on his knees. "You okay?"

Rodney waved him away. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"You still need some rest."

"Later."

"If it's just a matter of replacing a crystal, I can do that."

"It was a matter of replacing one in this case. As for the other seventeen cases, who knows." He picked up his bag.

Sheppard glanced down the hall and keyed his radio. "Zelenka? Why don't you come down here and see if you can help McKay. I need to get back to the gateroom."

"I am already on my way, Major." Sheppard nodded at the response, noting the way Rodney glared at him.

"What'd you do that for?"

"I did it because I need to get back to the gateroom. Didn't you just hear me say that?"

"I'm perfectly capable of doing this myself!"

"And I'm really going to let you go around this place alone?" He waved away the coming retort. "Besides, with Radek here you can get things done twice as fast!" In response to his name, the Czech appeared around the corner, toting his own bag and equipment. "Now behave. No bullying."

"Oh please." Rodney handed his scanner to Radek and gestured for him to lead the way. He sent one more glare at Sheppard before following. Sheppard merely smirked in return.

Radek fumbled with his flashlight, more as a distraction than anything. He wasn't comfortable. Knowing that Rodney suffered from. . .something. . .made him uneasy in his dealings with the man. He hadn't gone as drastic as avoiding him, but he had kept a close watch over him, from a distance. And he could tell Rodney had things going on, things that really did not need to be going on. It was plenty enough to make him wary, and yet the man was perfectly capable of doing his job. Hell, even the scowl on his face was typical, so what was the reason for concern? Maybe he really was better. Maybe Radek himself needed to let up.

He stopped in front of another console and popped off the panel. Rodney had already set his bag on the floor and was rummaging through it, muttering to himself. "Shouldn't you wait until I see inside?" Radek asked.

"Why?"

"Why pull out what we may not need?"

"I'm checking to see what I have in left here. Been a while since I packed it."

It suddenly occurred to Radek that Rodney was nervous as well. His flashlight whitened the interior of the wall. "You know, I think maybe you should have a look. You seem to find problems better than I do."

"That comment can be taken two ways, you know." Rodney stood and took Radek's place. "I'm not a magnet for trouble."

"That was not what I meant, and you know it. That is your own guilt speaking."

"So now my guilt speaks. Funny, all this time I thought it was my intellect."

"Usually it's your ass." He tried to peer in over his friend's shoulder. "What do you see?"

"Burnt crystal, same as before." Rodney reached back and snapped his fingers, his eyes glued to the interior workings.

Radek managed a smile and pulled out the crystal.

Rodney replaced the crystal in one quick swap, but his attention wasn't on his work. It was on his hand. He kept wiping at it.

Radek pocketed the burnt crystal. "Got an itch?"

"Yeah. Won't go away. Wonder if these things collect dust?"

"Never seen it. Think there is some sort of electromagnetic. . ."

"Yeah, yeah, been there." Rodney replaced the panel and straightened, stretching his spine with a mild groan. He swiped at the back of his neck, and frowned at his hand.

Radek shook his head in bemusement. "What are you doing?"

"I itch! When one itches, one scratches! Look, am I getting a rash somewhere or something?"

"I see nothing." Radek shouldered his bag. "We have many more, can we go?"

Rodney slapped at his neck, then rubbed his arm vigorously. He looked at his hand, squinted, then shook it. "Damn bug."

"Bug? In here?"

"Yeah." He slapped again, and examined his hand. "See?"

Radek looked. "No."

"How can you not see it? It's right there!"

"Rodney, your hand is empty. You are paranoid again, can we go?"

"It's not! Look, it's. . ." he rubbed at his face, worry creasing his forehead, and flung his hand. And again. And he paled.

Radek slowly set his bag down as his friend started to back away. "Rodney?"

"No! No, don't come near me, they might get on you." He was staring at his arm, and his puzzlement grew into horror. "Shit! SHIT!"

"What? Rodney?" Radek launched forward and grabbed the man, who was suddenly flailing about, slapping at his head and arms, raising his legs to wipe at them, like a man who had stepped in an ant bed.

But for Rodney this was much worse, as his increasingly panicked cries showed.

They were all over him. Tiny, white and squirming. He wasn't dead. Maggots were associated with dead things. And they covered him. "Radek!"

"What is it?" Frantic hands grabbed at him, trying to still him, but he wasn't having any.

"Get 'em off!"

"Get what off? Rodney, what?"

"The maggots! Get them off!" His jacket was shed and flung aside, stomped on as he tried to back away from his nightmare. He clawed at his skin like a victim of drug withdrawal, trying his hardest to get rid himself of his realistic vision. The scratches started to bleed.

But he wasn't finished. Pulling himself again from Radek's grip he dove for his bag and picked out a blade used for splicing wires. On his knees, he stretched his arm, and raked the flat of the blade across his skin.

"Rodney!" Radek fell to his knees, fighting the man for the blade before he could do himself damage.

"Stop it! I'm getting them off!" Rodney twisted away, aiming for his arm once again, carelessly dragging the blade over his skin, this time cutting deeply. "There!" He gasped, as if partly aware of what he had done, and horrified by it. "They - they don't like the blood, look. . ."

Radek performed the only action that allowed itself to cross his mind. He grabbed the blade and yanked it away from Rodney, throwing it aside with a yell. It clattered faintly, covered by the sudden groan as Radek cradled his blood covered hand.

There was something about Radek's injury and pained whimpers that stilled Rodney. When he looked down, there were no maggots, no bugs of any kind, only bleeding arms and a semi-lit corridor. And Radek, huddled across from him, fighting his own pain and grimacing at him, his light blue eyes wide in fear and concern.

It was the look that did it. Radek's glasses were gone, bent and sitting beside the wall. Seeing his uncovered gaze snapped Rodney to clarity. "I – I. . .ohgod it was. . ." he doubled over his knees, curling tightly, his face in his hands as he fought for control. His shoulders trembled, gasps of restraint overcame the tremulous dread. He quickly looked up and crawled for his jacket, returning and wrapping Radek's hand in it tightly. It was obvious that the grip required to wrench the blade away from Rodney was a tight one. He glanced at his own still-bandaged hand, and wondered when he started bearing responsibility for so much pain. "We need to get you to Carson. Now."

"Are you okay. . ."

"Come on." Rodney cut in, hoisting his injured friend to his feet, ignoring his own discomfort. Hoping that if he refused to acknowledge it, it would go away.

So far the tactic wasn't working too well. But he was getting used to it.

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It was quite possibly the worst day he'd had in a long while. All he wanted to do was – well, truthfully he wanted to vegge and watch television, but that wasn't an option. His guilt wouldn't allow him to sit still anyway, he kept making appearances in the infirmary until Radek was released with a hand that had been glued together. "Surgical glue," Carson had said, "better than stitches with no scarring." Rodney checked on Radek for the next hour, making certain his hand didn't come apart at the seams. There was something about gluing a body back together that was just so. . . vulgar.

He had managed to avoid Carson's questions and hightail it out of the infirmary with a few bandages to add to his collection. Radek kept giving him the eye, that look that plainly said, "if you don't tell him, I will." Rodney had waved it away with a nod, receiving a stern reply in Radek's expression. It was scary, how they were able to talk without talking. It was much like Sheppard and himself, which was probably the only reason the man tolerated him. Out on the edge of the known universe, it was nice to have someone who understood him, even if he didn't exactly like him. And vice-versa. Still. . .it was nice. The knock on his door however. . .not so much. The person standing there made him wonder if they should blame ESP for their odd link to each other. "Major? What are you doing here?"

Sheppard's expression darted between ire and worry. "I heard what happened, thought I'd come check up on you."

"What are you, my mother?" Rodney retorted without thinking. He stepped aside and let Sheppard in.

"You need one, apparently." He glanced around the room in disdain.

"I'm sure you'd fit the bill."

The response led to blackness.

Rodney woke with a throbbing head and no instant recall as to what had happened. It came to him slowly as his vision trickled in. Damn. . .he'd been joking. No reason to get cold-cocked. He felt softness give beneath him, and realized he was on his bed. Lazily, he looked around, trying to ignore the pounding in his skull, but groaning just the same. He could see Sheppard sitting in a chair, watching him with a steady gaze and unblinking eyes that unnerved him. "Major? You hit me! What the hell?"

"You fainted."

"Passed out. No thanks to you!"

"Whatever." He stood and walked over to Rodney.

The approaching figure swam before him. "Did I hit my head?"

"You could say that." He smiled, but it wasn't right, it wasn't Sheppard, even in his disjointed state he could sense that. There was no impish twinkle that drove Rodney crazy, like he didn't take things seriously enough.

"I suppose." Rodney frowned, and winced. He tried to pull his arms to him, preparing to push himself up, and realized with growing horror that he couldn't move. His wrists had been tied, very securely, to the bed, the ropes pulling his arms to the sides, fastened to the metal bedframe. "What is this?" He looked from one side to the other, testing the knots. They weren't budging, and trying them was making his hand throb. "What the hell's going on?" Puzzled eyes caught Sheppard as he slowly sat on the bed. Ignoring the pain, Rodney worked at his wrists, twisting them in the ropes, tensing his muscles, feeling Sheppard's body just touching his side. Where the hell had Sheppard gotten ropes? And for that matter, he wondered as he noticed a chill, where was his shirt?

"This was the only way I could get you to stay still," Sheppard responded quietly.

"That's bullshit." Rodney muttered, trying his hardest not to panic, especially as Sheppard leaned over him, one arm crossing his torso.

"I needed to talk to you. You need to see just how serious I am."

"What I need is to be untied. What's gotten into you?" He hated the way his voice squeaked, the way he felt violated though nothing had happened.

"I got into him." Sheppard smiled, slowly, sensually.

After everything he'd seen and been through, Rodney McKay thought he knew the meaning of horror. He had been wrong. That slow smile, Rodney recognized it. It had plagued his nightmares, and now it was staring at him, pasted on the face of his friend. Sheppard smirked as he saw the realization on Rodney's face. He straightened and slowly straddled him, making certain Rodney felt every movement. Running his fingers lightly over Rodney's bare chest, he asked, "Do you remember this?"

It was the most repulsive thing Rodney had ever felt. He closed his eyes tightly. "This isn't happening. Oh god, this isn't happening." He kept his eyes closed, obscuring the vision of his best friend being used against his will. "I knew it. I knew you were here, but I thought I was going crazy."

"Don't worry. I won't leave you as you left me."

That was the one thing that frightened him. "What do you want from me?" he gasped, hoping when he opened his eyes, he would see pale skin and fiery hair.

Hazel eyes stared back just before Sheppard leaned into his ear, and whispered, "ascension."

Rodney jerked. "Are you crazy? I already told you no!"

"You've seen the alternative, Rodney McKay, the effects of death." Sheppard's finger traced over thick brows, coming to rest on trembling lips. "Look at what is happening to you, what you are becoming. I'm not the cause. This is a result of your own mind, your own body betraying you."

"Betrayal? What, this?" He yanked at the ties. "I would never do this to myself, and neither would he!"

"Not this. Your fear. It will stay with you, Rodney, unless you release your burden."

He wanted to knock away those hands, hands that belonged on a gun, not stroking him. He swallowed hard and reminded himself that it wasn't really Sheppard, that there was no way he would do anything like this. He had hoped maybe it wasn't physically his friend, that she was casting an illusion, but he could tell. There was a slight clumsiness in the movements, like he wasn't used to performing them. And she was so graceful, fluid. He even saw the electrical burn on his hand, nearly healed. "Why are you here, in him? Why not just come to me?"

"But I have been coming to you." Sheppard's hands trailed lower, over his ribcage, the softness of his belly, to his groin. "You've been ignoring me. It hurt me, Rodney McKay."

"Stop it!" Rodney couldn't take anymore. He bucked and twisted frantically underneath Sheppard noticing for the first time that the button on the waist of his pants was unfastened. "Oh god," he exclaimed, "Stop this! God, just stop! Leave him alone!"

"Is he so repulsive?" Sheppard looked confused. "I had thought you cared for him. I knew it before, you have a strong attachment to this person. I thought you would enjoy. . ."

"Are you shitting me? NO! He's just a friend, probably the closest one I've had, though it pains me to say it." His brain wouldn't turn off, it was processing everything. "God. Can he hear me?"

"Of course."

"Crap. Never mind. Look," he was breathing too fast, too panicked, "just get off me, untie me, and we'll talk. Let him go, don't make him do this."

"For his sake?"

"And mine!"

Sheppard sat there, his head cocked to one side as he contemplated. A small smile crossed his lips. "No. . .I don't think so. I think this just might break you, Rodney McKay. I should like that."

His shook his head vigorously against the pillow. "No," he whispered, and his fists clenched within the ropes. He had a horrible feeling of what was to come. "Major Sheppard?" he squeaked desperately. "John? Listen to me! You know you don't want this, don't let her do this, please, god, get control or something. . ." he squirmed as Sheppard backed on his knees and slowly lowered himself fully onto Rodney, pressing hard against his chest. Hands reached out and grabbed his bound ones, and a breath whispered in his ear.

"Join me."

Rodney jerked his head away, his vision swimming. "No!"

"One way or the other, you will." Sheppard ground his hips against Rodney's.

It was the worst thing imaginable. Rodney raged and tried to throw him off, thrashing from side to side as best he could. There was no way he was going to let this happen, no way in hell. "You bitch! You'll hurt him too, do you understand?" Spittle showered John's face. Rodney gave a vicious jolt. "Get the fuck off!" Hands reached down into his pants, feeling him. "NO! Get off!" he roared, only to have a hand clamp over his mouth. He whimpered, struggled, tears threatening in the corners of his eyes as he realized how helpless he was. He couldn't let this happen. He would rather die.

_Are you certain, my love?_

_Yes_, he thought.

The eyes that stared into his suddenly widened in surprise. John Sheppard gaped at him, at his bound hands and covered mouth, at the silent desperation in his eyes. His breath quickened against Rodney's chest. "Oh. . .fuck. . ." he pushed himself away violently. He hovered at the foot of the bed, then rushed to the bathroom and vomited.

Rodney angrily yanked at the ropes. It took a moment for him to realize it was over, leaving him gasping for breath, closing his eyes and trying his hardest not to weep. Thank god. Oh thank god. . .but oh shit. Shitshitshit. He waited until he had calmed slightly, and timidly called for his friend, half scared it was a brief interlude, and wanting to be untied before the next battle.

Sheppard rounded the corner and sagged against it. His expression was hollow, and for a moment Rodney was afraid he wasn't really there. But he slowly walked to the bed, his face white as a sheet, his whole body shaking. Rodney continued to blink, holding back the remaining tears, giving them nowhere to go. "Major?" he asked softly, and that one word broke him.

Sheppard's eyes tightened suspiciously as he sat on the very edge of the bed and reached for Rodney's right wrist. It was reddened and raw from the struggle, the knot tight. Sheppard's own hands were trembling, and useless. "I can't," he whispered.

"Cut them."

"No. I'll – I'll get Carson."

"No! Don't you dare, look, it's fine, just. . ."

"Carson. He'll get you out, I promise, I just can't. . ."

"Major? Wait!" But Sheppard was shaking his head as he backed away. It wasn't like he could stop him, anyway.


	12. Chapter 12

Sheppard walked the halls. He had been walking for four hours, unable to sit still. He'd had three showers, paced in the small cubicle as the water poured around him. He had scrubbed his skin raw. Washed his hair. Even now it stood in wet spikes. He changed his clothes five times, each time feeling sick as the fabric touched him. Nothing was comfortable. But he couldn't walk the halls naked. And he couldn't sit in his room. And there was no way he was going to find Rodney.

He had seen the two of them in the commissary. He stood aside, watching, not really able to hear anything. He saw Rodney leap up from his chair in a classic "eureka" moment, and for a moment he nearly followed him. But images of a bound body laying prone beneath him snapped him back, and although Rodney didn't seem the worse for wear, he wasn't sure he would be welcomed.

And they had been getting on so well.

For the first time he accepted the fact that the man's arrogant opinions mattered to him. Hell, he really was a friend. The pure revolting emotions that grazed his nerves when he thought of what he'd nearly done was proof enough. The thing was, he had no memory of going to Rodney's room. No, that was a lie. He did remember, and he remembered a chill as he entered, and how everything seemed to dim. . .and the look of sheer terror on Rodney's face as he 'came to' and realized what he was about to do. His hand down Rodney's pants. . .he swallowed hard and tried not to give in to the wave of nausea. There had to be a logical explanation for it. Had to. Because if that was the true John Sheppard, then he had a date with a pistol.

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The next day was dark, with grey clouds swirling over the station. Rain spattered on the window of the requisition room. It was about as dismal as a day could get, and it reminded Ford of the waterfall, how he could stand grinning underneath the spray of the first tier, his face upturned, letting the water hit his teeth. Further down, the water joined with another band, coming together to form a 'y' which tumbled over the rock and created a huge rush that cascaded into the large pool below. He wanted to go back to the falls. Things were. . . happy. Frat parties had nothing on that. Just chillin'. No watches, no worries. No pending attacks. No freakoid scientist running around looking like the living dead.

He liked to watch over McKay, or at the least, look out for him. Meaning either he was in the mood to be civil, or be avoided at all costs. The man was totally unreadable. Not that Aiden considered himself a fragile person, he could take McKay's insulting dishes all day and lap them up. No worse than dealing with his crowd back home. But lately the cat was just. . .weird.

Since his return, Ford had been holed up recounting the regular mission supplies; MRE's, or "phat-packs" as he called them, flashlights, emergency and first aid kits (why these weren't combined, he'd never know), thermal supplies (not that they needed it so far), flares. Then on to weapons check and cleanings, ammo counts. . .it was like he was being punished for having had a good time. On the other hand, the supply and weapons units were excellent places for gossip, and that was where he was getting most of his intel on McKay. It seemed he wasn't only one who thought the man was losing it.

"I mean, I can understand. The guy's got the brain cells to fry, he can stand losing a few." Johnson was with him that day, taking stock of the dried food supplies two rooms down. He kept walking over to Ford, who was unboxing the MRE's and sorting them into bins for easy pickup, when mission bags were packed. Ford listened to the prattle, and realized he didn't even know Johnson's first name. To everyone, he was just "Johnson". Spent a lot of time with what was becoming known as "Big Boy", the supercomputer on the upper level of the gateroom that linked all the systems of Atlantis. McKay commented once that the relationship between Johnson and Big Boy was like Chandra and SAL. Ford had to admit he never watched the movie, which of course led to a learned dissertation on the finer arts, and misarts, of science fiction. Freaky, to say the least. "But I tell you," Johnson continued, "seeing him without those few cells, I mean, the man's cranky enough, you know? Now he's worse."

"I hear he hasn't been sleeping well." Ford sniffed at a packet of chicken, winced and chucked it.

"Who has? I know I haven't. Been spending twelve to fifteen hour shifts with Big Boy for the past three weeks. Partly because of the trouble you guys seem to get into." He offered a grin, which Ford caught feebly.

"Anyway," he continued, "this is more than lack of sleep. People've seen him go running down the halls like a bat outta hell. Talks to no one. Shows up with these injuries, but no one knows how he got them. I'm telling you, the man's losing it."

"And why are you telling me, exactly?" Ford could feel his defenses rise. McKay was an ass, sure, but he did like the man. All the talk was sounding more and more like crap.

Johnson popped his head around again, looking surprised. "He's your team member. Shouldn't you know what's up with him?"

"No else tells me anything," Ford mumbled, "gotta find out from Mr. Wizard."

"You've been gone," the voice faded slightly, "you're just out of the loop."

Maybe. But he'd seen enough. And it was more than a lack of sleep. So he kept a watch, from a distance.

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"I've got you, I've got you. . .dammit!" Radek spun on his heel and rushed from the lab to the gateroom, tapping his headset. "Bush, do you hear me?"

"Dr. Zelenka?"

"Shut down the power grid in G-4288! Do it now!"

"Shutting it down."

There was no way this person was going to suck more power from them. He wasn't going to allow it.

Rodney was on his way to the grid, hearing Radek's order and wanting to witness the transfer himself. He was nearby, as it were, down the hall actually. Damned convenient for a change. "Radek? What's our status?" His voice was crisper than usual as he fought down the nausea of past events and became a machine.

"I'm checking. Scanner's gone red."

"Red? Shit!"

"Give me a minute."

Rodney paced in the hall, eyeing the control panel which, for the moment, seemed to be doing nothing. The last thing they needed was another huge spike. Rerouting the remaining power had been arduous at best. He didn't want to do it again. The nearby generator hadn't lost any efficiency, not that it had a lot to start with, but had merely shut itself down. Best he could figure, the city had a sort of failsafe for extreme power fluctuations. Now whether that had kicked in, causing the blackout, or not, he wasn't sure. At the moment his concentration was on the small control before him, his hand held scanner blinking red at him, just as Radek said. Power drain. "Where is the boost?"

"There is no boost. Just drain."

"It has to be going somewhere!"

"I'm telling you, there is no transfer! There is just a drain!"

Dammit! Rodney quickly set his scanner down and popped open the panel. Inside, the crystals glowed intensely, white hot to the touch. He pulled his jacket sleeve over his hand and grabbed a crystal plate, yanking it hard from its slot. There was a small discharge, making him jump and turn his head aside, then he yanked out another one. He was four in before the panel went dark, and his scanner beeped.

"All green, Rodney, what did you do?"

"I dismantled the damn thing!" He caught his breath, looking at the panel, then at the dark crystal in his hand. "I guess the only way to solve this is to tear apart the station, huh?"

"If that is the answer, we could let the Wraith do it."

"Tempting, but no." Rodney gathered his gear. "I'm heading back to the lab, see what can be done there. You stick near Big Boy for a while, okay?"

"What are you going to do?"

Rodney rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "Get coffee, for starters. You writing a book?"

"No, Rodney. You get your coffee. Talk to me later."

"Oh. . .talk to the hand." Rodney sighed and moved on.

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Ford knew. There was no doubt in his mind now.

Rodney McKay was nuts.

"Talk to the hand? Did you really just say 'talk to the hand'?"

He had come around the corner just as Rodney finished his dialog with Radek. It was clear the scientist was in no mood for Ford's jests. He lowered his head with a sigh, shaking it and asking, "What could you possibly want right now?"

"Hey, calm down, man. Just thought I'd walk with you a minute. Been a while."

An incredulous look passed over Rodney's face as he stopped. "You want to talk? Catch up?"

"Sure."

Rodney actually smiled. And snorted as he resumed walking. "Why?"

"Why not? Haven't been on any missions together in a while, just thought I'd see what you had going on."

"What I have going on, is a station trying to collapse around me, and. . ." he suddenly clammed shut, and walked faster.

Ford was fit. He jogged alongside with no problem. "And what?"

"None of your business."

"Now is that the way to treat a team member? Someone who's helped to save your life?" His grin was flashy, but faded at Rodney's tense expression. "Take it back. Something's obviously gnawing at you, man."

"I'm fine, and I'm very busy, so if you don't mind. . .why don't you go find a nice chew toy or something."

"Right." His face fell as Rodney entered his lab without looking back. "I'll just go find something useful to do, huh? That suit you?" He took a few steps back, then turned on his heel with a huff. Take it back, he thought. Today he's very Rodney McKay.

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"Lt. Ford!" Radek caught up with the young man in the hallway, about an hour later. "You've seen Rodney?"

"Saw him a little while ago, he was heading for his lab."

"He is not there."

Aiden just shrugged and kept walking. "Maybe he got something to eat."

"No, he hasn't been there, Cynthia has not seen him. He is not in his room, I can not find him. I look. He's nowhere."

Ford stopped, frowning slightly. "He seemed kinda pissed or something. I thought maybe it was just him, but. . ."

"Yes, yes, what?"

Ford let his eyes roam the hall. They returned to Radek with a steady gaze. "Look, there's been talk. I've heard he's going through some sort of nervous breakdown or something, you know, like maybe his workload is too much, or the Wraith has him freaked, or. . ."

"His workload. . ." Radek stopped. He couldn't very well say it was fine, because it wasn't. "He's. . .under some pressure, yes. Is too much to go into. If you see him. . ."

"I'll send him your way." Ford snapped and pointed at Radek, and loosely walked on.

Zelenka watched him go, envying the grace and ease of youth. He sighed and continued his search.


	13. Chapter 13

Rodney never arrived at the lab. Instead he was distracted by a single beam of light shining through the clouds, finding just enough of a break in the grey to show its defiance. It was a moment of symbology, and as much as Rodney hated things of that nature, this one stopped him in his tracks. And he heard her.

"Lovely, isn't it?"

He turned. She was there, of course, looking surprisingly frail. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Don't come near me. Get the fuck away."

"Rodney, listen. . ."

"Don't call me that! Don't talk to me."

"I am sorry, so deeply sorry." She hurried to stand in front of him as he turned. "I misunderstood, that's all. I had thought. . ."

"You thought wrong." He turned again, and again was blocked.

"You really have no desire to ascend."

"Is that what all this is really about?" He laughed. "You scare me with visions and torments of death, and tell me that ascension is such a good thing. Well, you know what? Sucks for you, obviously!" He shouldered past, and stopped in his tracks. He had pushed past her. Very solidly. Differently.

She stood there, watching, her eyes heavy.

Rodney slowly turned to face her. Stood right before her, his hand cautiously reaching out. He took the fabric of her dress in his fingers, rubbed it lightly, raised his hand to touch her curls. There had always been sensation before, like a dream. Even on the other station, she was there, but not. Not until that monstrous form emerged. But now. . .she smelled of peaches. She was soft. She was gentle, she was there. Real. Underneath his hands, his hands which suddenly touched her everywhere, rubbing her shoulders, fingers threading her hair, lingering over her breasts. He breathed in deeply, with a shudder. "How?"

"You want this. You just never realized it. I wanted to show you."

"Show me what?"

She smiled, almost shyly. "Me."

He understood. This was the real Dantanunana, the real Dot, not a form or projection or half-being, not a representation of a thousand lost souls. This was the lady as she was when she first stepped foot on the other station, seeking her destiny. Before she was trapped for eternity. She was lovely. Light. Different, somehow. There was nothing menacing, or even seductive. She was pure, yet womanly. Not the good girl, as her coy smile showed, but not dangerous. And his heart went out to her. "God, I. . .it's so unfair. What they did, I mean."

"It is. But we can solve this. Please, I so want to do this." Her voice was rich, but. . .normal.

Rodney was finding it hard to breathe. "Why haven't you come to me like this before? This is. . .if you had just. . ."

"I could not. And I can't stay this way. It requires too much."

His brows raised. "The energy? You really are the cause? That's why you were able to do this?"

She looked confused, then scared. "I have to go."

"What? No! No wait, please, just - just hang on a minute."

"This really is your path. You can help us. Please, Rodney, help us! Join us!"

Rodney could only stand there and watch as she faded, and left behind a hole unlike anything he had ever felt. The sunbeam was gone, the skies were darkening. He suddenly realized how empty he was, a vessel that needed to be filled by her presence. The halls around him were foreboding. Everything looked so flat, so one-dimensional. If that was the bliss that joining would afford him, then he would take it.

And that was when he started walking, and when the halls started to close in around him.

Nothing changed, physically, but the corridors felt like a pressing tunnel, each side waving inwards. He rounded a corner and found a door, where one should not have been, and it opened to reveal a control room, like the ones in the underwater city. He quickly backed away, into someone who asked if he was okay. But he couldn't see them, and shrugged off the restraining hand and increasingly frantic speech. Next thing he knew he was running, pushing at the walls as they tried to cave on him, slamming bodily into them and into people as he approached a more populated sector. He saw several people running towards him, and turned tail, pounding down the corridor with the pursuit tight on his heels. He managed to close the elevator door in their face, and slid down the wall, gasping, wringing his hands. The doors opened to an empty hall several levels down, and he had to crawl out, then push himself to his feet. And a small voice sounded in his head. "They know, my love. You have to do this now, you can achieve so much if you do this now. They will destroy you. You know what torment awaits. They do not trust you, they think you are mad. They will destroy you."

"No," he whispered, standing in the abandoned hallway, clasping his head in his hands. He bent over, forcing his brain to think in a more linear fashion rather than drifting in sporadic clouds that obscured his reason. He straightened, hearing a sound, darting his eyes left to right. "I won't let that happen."

"You know what to do."

"I can't. I'm afraid."

"You can."

"Yes." It terrified him. In fact, he couldn't believe he was thinking it. . .but she was right. He was useless like this, so just maybe. . .besides, with the Wraith coming, couldn't he protect the city? What if he didn't survive the attack? What if, in some odd way, this was meant to be?

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"Dr. Zelenka!" Lt. Ford ran into the lab, rushing up to the man. "You give up your search?"

"I had to check on this project, it has to be precisely timed. But I was going to. . ."

"Look, never mind, I found him. But he ran. Called backup, but man, he's fast. And he ain't right, man, I'm telling you. Something's up. Bad."

Radek straightened instantly. "You informed the Major?"

"He's out looking for him." Ford snapped his hand up, shaking a headset at Radek. "I found this on that table over there. Been trying to contact you."

Radek pointed, agitated. "Is the project. . .I needed to wear different earpiece, can not do that with headset." He snatched the radio from Ford and placed it in his ear. "Where did Rodney go?"

"Lost him in the elevator. But we've got people looking everywhere."

"Right." Radek waved Burkes over and pointed to a graph. "I'm joining you."

"Actually I've got a team out. Why don't you pick a spot and hang out, see if he shows up. Burkes here can keep him in the lab if he shows, right Burkes?" There was a nod, and Ford clapped Radek on the shoulder. "The minute you see him. . ."

"Yes, yes of course." Radek muttered impatiently, and followed Ford out on his heels.

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Sheppard had a cold feeling. Screw his concerns, his emotions, his damned ego. Rodney was an intelligent man, there was no way he would let what. . .happened. . . ruin everything. Hell, if he was going to 'fess up and charge headlong into this friendship thing, then dammit, he was going to have to do it. No longer a team mate. No longer a co-worker, or part of his duty, or someone to annoy. He had seen her, he was certain of it, a small figure with bright red hair walking down the hall, a figure he had seen once before, right as she mutated. No hallucination. It was here, and suddenly everything made too much sense.

And the fact that he couldn't find Rodney scared the shit out of him.

He had contacted Elizabeth. And Teyla. And Dr. Beckett, who had medical teams on standby. Every man available was out searching for someone who had simply disappeared. Not in the labs, in the corridors. The entire station's personnel was on alert to notify either Sheppard or Weir the moment they saw him. John was scared he had taken off to an unexplored part of the city, lost maybe, or trapped. Their exploration perimeter was ever widening, but they were limited by restricted power sources, and since the spikes in the system, those limited sources were stretched to the limits, if working at all. One generator was gone for good, having suffered some kind of feedback that like everything else, made no sense. Beckett had informed him of Rodney's theory, that somehow this Dot person was responsible for the drain, but he had his doubts. However, seeing her in the hall, in what looked like real flesh and bone, made him reconsider.

His team was spread wide. His weapon was ready. There was no way she was taking him. Not after the crap Sheppard had put himself through, realizing that he was worth fighting for.


	14. Chapter 14

Radek stood just outside Rodney's quarters. It had been a while since his rooms has been checked, and the guard in the hall insisted that no one had entered since he was stationed there. Well, he was about to feel pretty damn stupid, because Radek had finally picked up a faint life reading inside, and was waiting for some gene-blessed soul to come and activate the door. He had yet to take the gene therapy. There was no need, with Rodney constantly on his ass. He was adverse to shots anyway, and saw no sense in being able to activate unknown equipment that may very well kill him. Rodney wanted everything turned on and studied. Radek preferred caution. He wanted to know exactly what was being turned on, before it exploded or melted into the table or created a permanent personal shield. He still loved to tease Rodney about that one.

Dammit.

Simon arrived, and ran his hand over the panel. Radek thanked him and dismissed him quickly.

It was a long shot, but he was used to long shots. His life was based on them.

The room was empty, but the door to the balcony was open. He walked out into the building wind, trying to ignore the fact that the skies were as grey as Rodney's uniform, threatening to explode around them. Well, well. It seemed long shots had a tendency to pay off. He walked towards the lone man standing at the rail, sighing in relief. "There you are! We've looked for you everywhere, you weren't here before. . .Rodney? What are you doing?" Radek slowly raised his hands as a gun was pointed at him.

"Leave." The voice was cold, concise, and deep. Rodney's eyes were hooded, but with a grip of steel.

Radek's mouth worked silently. Not a part of his plan. This was a Rodney McKay he never thought he'd see, one who had seemingly lost control. Or was he trying to regain it? He had no idea what to say. His brain tried to shut down, he wasn't trained for situations like this. "Rodney, please. Put the gun down."

"No."

Wide eyes focused on the weapon aimed at him. "You need to talk, we talk. Not a problem. Just. . .not like this, huh?"

"Apparently you comprehend English as well as you speak it. I said, no!" Rodney turned away and leaned his weight on the rail, staring out over the increasingly choppy waters. The gun rested in his grip, propped on the thin metal.

Radek slowly raised one hand to his radio and tapped it. "Major Sheppard?" he whispered.

"Radek?" The response was instantaneous.

"He's here. His balcony." He swallowed heavily. "He's got a gun."

There was a curse and sounds of voices behind him. "Don't let him go anywhere. I'm on my way. But listen, watch your back, okay?"

"Right." Radek tapped his radio off as Rodney spoke.

"It's no use, you know. He doesn't care either."

Radek blinked, lowering his hand slightly. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing."

"No, that sounded like something." Radek took a step forward. "Rodney, please. I am a friend. Talk to me."

"Talk?" Rodney turned, and slumped against the rail in disbelief. "Are you serious? Which equations would you like to discuss, huh? What formulas? What questions do you have?"

"Why do you hold your gun?"

"That's not what I meant by what questions do you have."

"Rodney. . ."

"Look, I'm just. . .tired, okay?" His voice cracked painfully. "You've heard the drill, god, everyone here has. I can't think, I can't sleep, I keep seeing these things, I can't keep doing this! I'm a menace, I'm going to get someone killed!"

"That isn't true!"

The rain started to fall, then poured in torrents, drenching them in a cold, bitter wetness. They stood there silently, neither attempting to move. Rodney wiped the water from his face and squinted at Radek. "Do you know what happened between Sheppard and me?"

"No, I. . ."

"I cause these things! I can't control it!"

"What are you. . ."

"She was inside him. He fucking tried to rape me while she was in him." He stomped forwards, pointing at himself with his gun. "I couldn't stop that! Neither could he! You think he just got over it? He hasn't talked to me since." A shudder passed over him, through him. "I ruined him." He backed away again, muttering, silently crying in a despair that Radek could only watch and not comprehend. The gun stayed in a firm grip. "I'll ruin everybody. I'll destroy this city before it's over, and all because I'm foolish enough to stay here."

Radek let his hands drop. He shook his head slowly, searching for words, but none came. None that were satisfactory. "Rodney, you listen to me now. We need you. Please, do not do this."

"That's what I'm trying to say. I am useless like this!"

"No, you're not useless." The voice came from just behind Radek, and he turned to see Sheppard standing there, just as drenched. Radek wondered how much of the conversation he had heard, how long he had been standing there. "You're just. . .having a bad day." He eyed the gun, his thought obvious, knowing Rodney was feeling desperate enough to act on it.

Rodney just laughed and turned away.

Sheppard eased past Radek, exchanging a concerned glance with the scientist, gently cautioning him to stay where he was. He wasn't certain Radek had a full grasp on the situation, whereas Sheppard now had. Rodney's back was to him, his shoulders moving as he chuckled. Sheppard wondered if he could overpower him, take the gun, but the balcony was too slick. He didn't want to risk pushing anyone over the edge, physically or otherwise. "Rodney, listen to me. I'm sorry. I needed time, I felt. . . I felt really ashamed. But I know what happened, I know what's been happening. You get that?"

"She wants me." Rodney's voice broke. "She says she needs me more than everyone here, that I can do better with her."

"She's said that before."

"I had something to return to before."

"Dammit Rodney, you have something to fight for here! You really think we're just going to let you go?" He waited for a response, for a chance to apologize, for Rodney to beat the crap out of him, anything. Nothing happened.

It took a new voice to catch his attention. "Listen to him, Rodney." Carson Beckett had joined them, responding to Sheppard's earlier call.

But Rodney just rolled his eyes. "Oh great, let's all have a pity party, huh? A little going away fling."

"No one's going anywhere." Sheppard took another step forward. His friend was too distraught, wavering, and too close to the rail.

"Look, don't you get it?" Rodney sighed. "I'm tired. I'm just – so tired." His eyes were haunting.

"Rodney," Carson walked towards him, one hand extended. They were closing in on him slowly. "Remember what you told me in the commissary? I think she heard you. She knows you're on to her, that's why she's affecting you this way. She's in trouble, and the only way she can save herself is to take you. Do you remember I when asked if she could manifest in her true form? Can you remember what that looks like? Do you really want to be a part of that?"

Rodney doubled over as a sob took him, his confusion painfully apparent. Carson dared another step, but Rodney snapped up, gun aimed at the doctor's chest in a trembling grip. The fear on his face was unspeakable.

Radek took Carson's arm and guided him back, then stepped up to the plate himself, stopping as the gun pointed at him. "Look at us. We wouldn't be here if we didn't care. That must say something."

Rodney shook his head, backing away slowly. Three were too many, too many. . .he wiped at his face, soaked with tears as well as rain. "I can't go on like this. I can't keep. . ." his face fell. He fought for control. "I won't."

"You don't have to. We've got this." Sheppard reached out invisibly steadying his friend. He walked until he stood right in front of him. "Look at me. Is this the way to this ascension, this enlightenment? Is this how the ancients would recruit? Trust me. It's a lie, Rodney, it's all a lie. She's playing to your fears, she knows what you want. And she knows how to get it."

Rodney met his eyes, then Carson's, and then Radek's. All soaked, all standing in the storm, all for him. The grip on his gun loosened, and Sheppard eased it from his grip. He un-cocked it and slid it into his leg holster. "There." He studied Rodney's face, waiting for a sign that the wall was coming down. A slight give in his posture was the signal. "What do you say we get out of the rain, huh?"

Rodney started to speak, started to agree, started to throw his exhausted soul at the mercy of the men in front on him, but a morbid howl drew him up short. And out of the darkness, a figure flew at them, nothing but tangled arms and legs and staring eyes. The scent of decay was overwhelming, putrid. It shrieked as it lunged at the men, sending them to the floor, and pulled up, aiming for one thing.

Rodney.


	15. Chapter 15

The creature flew behind him, providing a black, gurgling, hellish backdrop, many arms reaching out threateningly, yet grasping nothing. The wind whipped around them, choking them, and he faced his friends, his face drawn in resignation. "I guess the answer's no," he said flatly.

"No. NO!" Sheppard pitched forward as the ghoulish arms snatched Rodney by the leg and pulled him downwards. He managed to grab a hand before his friend tumbled to the waters below.

Carson and Radek launched toward them, skidding and smashing into the lower rail and grabbing hold of both Sheppard and Rodney. The creature below them bellowed, crowed, wailed in disgust. Sheppard pulled with all his might, feeling Radek brace him from behind, seeing Carson grip Rodney's other hand and fight.

Rodney looked down at the creature, up at his friends, and his eyes cleared. He started to kick, bending his elbows, trying to gain purchase. Sheppard pulled his hand to the rail, saw him grip it, and grabbed the shoulder of his shirt, then under his arm. Carson had reached down to grab the waist of his pants. Radek secured both of them, laying horizontally across their legs while bracing himself against the bar, preventing them from sliding into the deep.

There was a violent tug from below, and Rodney slipped. The panic in his face said it all. He didn't want to die. "Don't let go!" he screeched.

"We've got you. . ."

"Don't let go! Hold on, don't let go!"

"Aye, Rodney, now come on!" Carson realized this was more than a physical battle. Rodney was battling for his soul. "You have to make it leave, Rodney! Only you can make it leave!"

"How?" Rodney practically shrieked. The screeching below intensified. Their entire vision was caked with disembodied heads, limbless bodies, bodiless limbs. The stench was horrific, hot, morbid. The sound was excruciating.

Sheppard suddenly had the answer. He knew. It was the same thing he had been battling, dammit, he i knew /i . "Rodney! Are you afraid?"

"What?" His hand slipped, and John thought he was going to pee in his pants.

"Are you afraid?"

_Are you shitting me?_ He could see the violent question in his friend's eyes, and tightened his grip further. At any other time, there would be a classic retort. This wasn't the time nor the place for it. Rodney's eyes met his, and a thousand unspoken truths passed through them. It was the oddest communication he had ever experienced, and what's more, it worked. He suddenly read everything he never thought he would see.

Fear of life. Of death. Of responsibility, of caring, of failing. Fear of becoming something other than what he was. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the known. Fear of everything that living was, and yet afraid to cast it all away for an ideal that, in his rational mind, should never have existed.

"Rodney," Sheppard said carefully, "there's one thing about being dead." He had to yell over the noise, but it came across as a confidential whisper.

"What?"

"When you're dead, you don't know it."

In that moment, it made the most stupid sense in the universe. A thought flashed through Rodney's mind like a spark, so fast the words were blurred and left behind a notion, 'then what the hell am I afraid of?' Sheppard was there, holding on to him, sliding with him, would probably go down with him. And his chest swelled.

"No," Rodney said in a low voice, "I'm not afraid."

"Tell her."

"I'm not afraid!"

"Yell it, damn you!"

"I'M NOT AFRAID! I'M NOT AFRAID OF YOU, OR DEATH! I ACCEPT BOTH!"

"Say it again!"

"I. AM NOT. AFRAID!" His voice bellowed over the winds and rain, and buried the creature. Sheppard felt a sting a panic he didn't show as Rodney looked down at it. "Take me then! Damn you to hell, take me!"

There was one final shriek, surrounded by one, agonizing female cry. And the creature disappeared.

They pulled Rodney to the floor and lay there together in a tumbled heap, gasping for breath, gripping each other to ensure the ordeal was over, and that they were all there, alive. Rodney managed to crawl to his knees and away from the rail, but collapsed in sobs before making it to the door. Carson crawled up beside him, putting his bedside manner to good use. Radek managed to find his feet and stumbled into the room to gather some towels.

Sheppard just gazed out towards the water, and cursed God himself.

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He was actually glad to be in the infirmary. It was light. There were people around him, all the time, he didn't feel alone. Even in the small snatches of sleep he allowed himself, there was someone there, and it helped.

He had been under observation for two days. Carson was ready to release him. He wasn't sure he was ready to go. When he did, he spent the rest of the day in his room, thinking.

He attended a meeting the morning after his release. His dreams had been relatively uneventful, which led him to wonder if maybe Dantanunana really had gone. But there had been sightings, reports of wailing and mysterious shadows deep within the bowels of Atlantis. While it was possible that these were stories invented to stir things up, and what better place for ghost stories than a ten thousand year old abandoned station in another galaxy, the crew wasn't taking any chances. Not when it meant someone's life, and though it wasn't spoken, everyone was convinced that the next encounter would quite likely prove to be the fatal one. Rodney was holding his own, but for how long?

"Not to mention," Radek said, "it was obvious that this thing was perfectly willing to take Rodney with her – with it."

"I think she's at the point where she's ready to kill him to have him," Sheppard said pointedly, but gently. Rodney just sat with his hands crossed on the table, offering nothing.

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair and lowered her head. She sat that way for some time before asking, "Why Rodney? What does he have that she wants?" In a sense it sounded crude, rude even, like he possessed nothing of value. But they understood what she meant.

Everyone looked at the physicist. Rodney was startled from his thoughts, and his mind replayed the question. "Oh. I, uh, I guess I have a unique vantage point, as compared to the rest of you."

"And that would be?" Sheppard prodded, expecting a response that detailed the excruciating intricacies of Rodney's lustrous mind, and how every living, or partly dead, being in the galaxy would be more than willing to get their hands on it.

The response surprised him.

"I uh. . .and understand this is minimal at best, but I've had contact with ascended beings through the SGC program. I've talked to people who have had direct contact with them, and of course there is Dr. Jackson. Now he wasn't exactly forthcoming about his whole ordeal, mainly because he couldn't remember much from his time as an ascended being, but. . .compared to the rest of the people here, I've had the most dealings with ascension. I've glanced over Dr. Jackson's notes about the Harsesis. I've read the entries detailing the writings at Kheb. I've studied as much as possible about the Ancients before coming here, therefore I have knowledge of the very thing she wants most, and that is to ascend fully.

"This thing is nothing more than a result of an experiment gone wrong. I don't know if it's because of the people running it, or a glitch in the experiment itself. But I've had time to do some thinking while staring at Dr. Beckett's decor, and I've decided. . .if I were them? I wouldn't want to stay like that either, and I'd do whatever necessary to either ascend. . .or die."

"So. . ." Elizabeth broached slowly, "you're saying you want to help her?"

"I'm saying it's either one thing or the other. They're going about it all wrong, granted, but then again, that's what desperate beings do." He should know.

"And how do you propose to do this?" Sheppard asked. His tone was almost mocking. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Radek tighten his lips into a thin line. His eyes hadn't left Rodney's, and he waited until he had the man's attention, and a nod, before speaking. "This being has no where to go. There are two options, and we must decided which to use. One, try and help it to ascend. Two," he spread his hands, "destroy it."

"But we don't know how to help it to ascend," Elizabeth said.

"Then that leaves other option." Radek fixed his gaze on Rodney, who gave a small sigh and gazed at the table.

The sigh caught Sheppard's ear. "You really want to help, don't you?"

Rodney said nothing for a moment. When he raised his head, his expression was earnest, his eyes poignant. "Yes."

And Sheppard wondered if she had affected Rodney in some positive way after all.

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"I've given up asking you to sleep, so instead I'll ask what'cha got." Sheppard carefully situated himself on the high stool at the end of the table, leaning his elbow on it while eying the multitude of books and reading materials surround McKay.

"I feel like Dr. Jackson," Rodney grumbled, flipping the pages noisily. "He was much better at this stuff than I am. But to answer your question, I've got nothing. A whole lot of nothing. Best I can figure you have to either be invited to ascend, or figure out how to do it yourself. Neither option bodes well."

"I don't suppose you can just get this Oma person to do it."

"Something tells me that wouldn't be the first choice. Besides, how do you propose I get in touch with her? Intergalactic 911?"

"How did Dr. Jackson do it?"

Rodney squared a look at him. "Die."

"Not really an option here."

"I'm relieved to hear you say it." Rodney flipped through his book rather aggressively, then slammed his hand down and leaned back, sighing in frustration. "There has to be a way to do this. There has to be a way for her to get whatever information she needs so that she can ascend, so they all can ascend, and there has to be a way to do it without risking my neck."

"Look, you said that writing on the walls in that other Atlantis was ancient, right? Had something to do with ascension?"

"From what I could gather, yes. Not the expert, here."

"But you could read enough of it to get that."

"Some of it, yes. It was like a running dialogue of script, things they had discovered that apparently worked, and it ran along with scripture of a more spiritual nature. Kind of like a road map for the bible, as it were."

"Ascension was their religion."

"It was their spiritual practice. Don't know if I'd call it a religion."

"Either way, there was a lot of information on those walls, that could be used to ascend."

"Apparently it was incomplete."

"And she thinks you have the answer?"

"Again, might I point out that I've had more experience with ascended beings than anyone here. She probably thinks I did it in some way." His eyes widened, and he stood slowly. "Or maybe she thinks I'm a bridge. That I have some hidden knowledge that I'm unaware of, because I don't understand it myself. I could hold the key, and not realize it!"

Sheppard lifted his chin. "Isn't that putting a lot on yourself? Not that it isn't your usual way, but still."

But Rodney was on a roll, talking faster. "If Dr. Jackson were here, he may be able to tell for certain, but whose to say this isn't two opposite parts of a giant puzzle? Maybe she already has one part, and instinctively knows that I hold the other!"

"Through Dr. Jackson's research?"

"Yes! Or from his experience. For all I know it could be imprinted on a part of me, merely through contact with him."

"I don't get that."

"Me either, but it sounds good."

"So what do we do?"

Rodney shook his head. "I don't know. Somehow we have to get this information to her."

"Rodney, I've asked this once before, and I'm going to ask it again. Are you sure letting them ascend is a good idea? You've seen what she really is, what they all are."

"Look, they were desperate. They've been trapped down there like that for thousands of years. They find a way out, don't you think they would do whatever is necessary to take it?"

"They failed the ascension the first time! What makes you think they are worthy now?"

"Oh, come on! Worthy by whom? Which dictionary are you using? For all we know they could have been the ancient equivalent of the poor sent down here. Or the ill. A sector that society would just as soon forget about, therefore they are sent away and experimented upon to provide a better life for the others."

"You really think that?"

"I don't know! What I do know is, the ancients weren't perfect. Just because they built the Stargates, just because they were able to transcend a normal existence, that doesn't make them gods. They were just scientifically advanced. If nothing else, the older Elizabeth's brief encounter with them showed us that."

Sheppard sat in silence. "There is a way, I think," he finally said, "but I don't like it a bit."

"I know," Rodney said quietly. "But I don't see any other way to do this."

"If it doesn't work?"

"Quite frankly, I don't want to think about it. But I can't keep going like this, either. If I'm willingly to help, maybe she'll back down."

"So when, then?"

Rodney nodded. "Before I can change my mind. Right now."


	16. Chapter 16

Carson Beckett was not happy. Not in the least. For that matter, no one looked especially pleased as they closed the door on Rodney, watching him from the camera just outside. Johnson kept a firm eye on his hand held control, monitoring the energy readings across the station. If there was a massive dip, she was coming. At least that was the theory, if she was physically rerouting the source, soaking up the energy to manifest herself. He didn't hold to it, it seemed too easy.

Elizabeth was standing tensely, her arms folded tight against her body, her eyes glued to the hastily assembled, small black and white screen. The room Rodney occupied was in a remote area of the station, stripped to the walls, and he paced endlessly.

Sheppard sighed and tapped his radio. "Rodney, settle down. She – it may not come otherwise."

"Yeah, at the moment I'm not sure which scares me more." Rodney's voice was high.

Not that he could blame him. Everything thing about the situation scared Sheppard. He took a deep breath, then decided to relay this insight to his friend. "Look, just breath. You have to relax."

"Easy for you to say!"

"This was your idea!"

"Oh, yeah, thanks for reminding me!"

"Gentlemen!" Elizabeth snapped. The one word was enough to bring the two men back under control, and Johnson's head jerked up.

"Power dropped, two levels down. I think she's coming," he said rapidly.

Sheppard's attention snapped to the screen, just in time to see Rodney collapse. He instantly grabbed Beckett's arm as the man darted forward. "No! Wait, just wait. . ."

"He needs our help, Major!"

"We don't know that! He'd always blank out when he saw her before, now give it a minute!" Only then did he realize he was straining for the door himself, and Elizabeth was holding him back. And they stood that way, each bracing the other while watching.

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She stood before him, looking more beautiful than ever. Rodney's breath caught in his throat. He felt her warmth, her passion, and remembered their encounter in the hall. She had been real then, hadn't she? Maybe that too was a clever illusion. Maybe this Dantanunana was literally in his head, and she manifested herself the way he wanted to see her; perhaps like the Wraith, she was capable of projecting images that could only be seen by a certain few. It was a bit late to wonder about it. "I have a proposition," he said, forcing his voice neutral.

She slowly walked towards him, her smile beguiling. The power took his breath away, and it wasn't until her hands were on his shoulders, pushing him back that he realized what was going on. "No! No, not that, I mean. . .look, really, we don't have time for this. You want to ascend, I mean, that's the reason you're doing what. . .everything. Right? Ultimately, that's your goal. Acsencion."

"I will achieve that with you."

"Yes, but not as you may think." He slowly peeled her arms form him, turning his head away from her access. "Look, I want to talk to Dot. Just her, not all of you, or whatever," he shook his head in confusion, "whomever. . .just Dantanunana. Can you do that?"

She thought about it. "That isn't desirable."

"No, of course not." He wrung his hands. "Okay then, listen to me. It's possible I have some latent knowledge that may help you, but I don't want to die in order for you to have it. Can you understand that?" His eyes met hers. "I'm not ready to die. I don't want to ascend. I have too much here, too much to live for. As sappy as it sounds, that's it. But if there is information stored in my head, in my subconscious, that you can use, then by all means take it." His voice softened and took on a personal tone. "No one should have to live like you've had to all these centuries. I don't know why you couldn't ascend, but I believe if you were this close, and you're this desperate, then you should be given the chance. I can't believe you're all bad. I think this would be a good thing for you, for both of us."

She took a step back, her face puzzled. In that moment there was Dot, separated from the mass, and he could almost sense the hundreds of beings around her, all individually, suddenly split into confusion by his words. "You would do this?"

"If you can figure out how to do it, then yes. What's up here," he pointed to his head, "is yours."

"And if it doesn't work?"

"Oh, it had better work."

She considered. "I should be very disappointed if it didn't work. I almost feel some measure of regret for not trusting you sooner."

Rodney frowned. "Regret for what?"

"It doesn't matter now." She smiled, and walked to him. "Do you trust me?"

He swallowed, and told himself that everything would be fine, that this was Dot. The real Dot. "Yes."

"Then close your eyes."

He did so.

"Hold out your hands." She reached out, and their fingers intertwined.

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"Okay, I'm going in there!" Beckett yelled as Rodney went into convulsions.

Sheppard gritted his teeth, fighting against every instinct his body told him. "Wait."

"You can't be serious!"

Sheppard snatched the white lab coat, forcing Beckett to face him. "I'm deadly serious, we don't go in until I say so!"

"You'll kill him, man!"

"He's fine!" Sheppard pushed Beckett away, and turned his anger to the screen. "You hear me, Rodney? You better be fine in there!"

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Rodney felt fine. He felt heavenly, floating, curving around astral planes and symbols carved out of the stars themselves. His body was stardust, not just in theory but aesthetically, and all around him the multitude of Stargates turned; huge stone wheels, spinning slowly, methodically, looking for all the world like dials that controlled the universe. It was the wheels that controlled the universal cycle. The rotation of the planets, the spiral galaxies, the elliptical orbits of comets, the changes of the seasons, the weather cycles, the spinning of electrons around a nucleus. They were tapped into him, and he into them, and he had to wonder, if this was the existence the ancients lived, if this was really what they knew, why leave it? How did they experience all of this if trapped on the station? Was this what they really knew, with their three dimensional star charts and universal building block codes? Was this in their genetic makeup? If this was just an inkling of what they knew and understood, what more did ascension bring to them? His head burned with the knowledge, the vast expanse of everything, of the interconnectedness, the totality of it. Light shot at him from every direction, piercing him like long, needle thin arrows, then all was white. There was a single scream, whether of bliss or torment he couldn't be certain.

He woke, laying on his side on the floor, every muscles on fire, every tendon stretched, every nerve sparking. He cried out in pain, doubled over on himself, through himself if at all possible. Part of him remained in that non-time, that place where the ascendants go, the place that bordered on eternity and seemed more frightening that death itself. He had never believed in eternal life, and now he didn't want to.

The door burst open and people rushed in. It was a mad frenzy, one he couldn't back away from, the painful touches, the too-loud voices, the distorted heads peering down at him, saying his name over and over, clutching at him, hurting him, pulling him back from a void where half his body lay. All he could do was scream.


	17. Chapter 17

"If I'd got to him sooner. . ."

"It may not have worked!"

"It still may not have worked, and he'd be alive!"

It wasn't worth it. This was what he got for letting himself get sucked in. No more. Absolutely no more. Sheppard turned and drove his fist into the wall. He heard a crack, and the sob that had been holding itself in suddenly escaped, framed by pain.

He felt Carson turn him, curse, and reach for a towel. "Bloodying yourself up over it won't help," he said in a more reasonable voice. His own eyes were wet with disbelief. Elizabeth had left the room to tell Teyla and Ford. Johnson was standing in the corner, his eyes not leaving the body.

"What the hell? How can you – how can you be so cold about this?" He had been waiting, for days, for his friend to wake up. Hovering around the lab. Hesitating before his quarters. Hiding in his own.

Carson led him to a chair, and turned back to his friend. It had been four days, four days with no signs of any activity whatsoever. The life support machines had been turned off. The odd pumping of his lungs had ceased. Rodney's skin was slack, his face expressionless, his eyes just opened in unseeing slits. Too still. There was no breath, absolutely no movement at all, which seemed impossible.

John never wanted to see his friend so still. It would haunt him, just as Rodney had been haunted. He would take over the ghost.

"You should get that checked on," Carson said quietly, raising his chin toward a nurse who very gently, and apologetically, took Sheppard aside for cleaning up and an X-ray. Carson watched him go, and nodded Johnson away. The other two nurses walked out discreetly, leaving Carson with his patient, his friend.

Cold. Was he cold? He was professional, he couldn't fall apart every time someone he knew died. Dammit, at least back at the hospital he didn't seem to know everyone that came through. He didn't have to go back to his quarters after a death, remembering the person cheating at poker, or how he or she hated carrots, and how he failed to keep them warm. There was a threat of this becoming way too personal, and he tried his hardest to fight that. Now he was confronted with it, evilly, and Sheppard had the balls to say he was_cold_?

He rubbed Rodney's arm. Removed the tubes. Pulled the covers tight around the body, already cooling from lack of circulation. He collapsed into a chair, covered his eyes with one hand, and allowed himself to cry.

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There was such peace. Such stillness, such a vast expanse of fulfillment, such calm. No need for knowledge. No need for emotion. No need for a heartbeat, because the pulse of the universe was a heartbeat, sustaining all life, all death. Explosions of birth in the form of stars, supernovas, particles spitting and hissing as they collided, creating new forms; even the death of old forms, of old ideas, old stars, old cells; everything ran together in a seamless linear fashion, more so than was ever thought, lunging onwards and falling backwards. Along this line, time itself played hopscotch like a jubilant child; bouncing over occasions and concepts, running to the front and drifting behind. It wasn't steady, but mere snapshots of moments, just blocks, building castles amongst the stars. Block upon block of moments, running together to create the line that all of creation ran along.

Then where was the circle? Where was the recurring cycle? It wasn't a straight line. Unless time really was never ending, and the cycle was stretched to eternity and beyond, folded flat into a line. Was everything that appeared three dimensional, actually only one? Was the world really flat?

The questions were never ending. The immense weight of the unknown was suffocating, and the more questions asked, the more answers eluded the seeker. Maybe it wasn't the universe that was flattened. Maybe it was merely concept itself.

There was only one way to find out. And the universe answered, "_yes_."

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Beckett's eyes were heavy. His body pressed into the floor, yet he knew he was standing, bearing the weight of the thin white sheet that he was about to pull over his friend's eyes. His mourning was just beginning. He hesitated, unable to cover that face, those eyes he had to force close. There was so much loss, and this was one that made absolutely no sense. He had never known someone so alive. To think it had all shut down, that it was no more. . .

He was a doctor. He saw death, he embraced it as a foe, he accepted it. Death itself was a living thing to him, something that mocked him in his deepest dreams, yet he understood it. They were two halves of the same thing. Sometimes he won. Sometimes the reaper would wield his scythe and undercut him. Later, he was going to have it out with the reaper over a full bottle of scotch. Bloody bastard had an unfair advantage.

_Stop it, Carson. You're losing it._

He took a deep breath, and pulled the sheet tight, hovering it over his friend's face. And jumped as the machine behind him suddenly started to beep. Not unusual. Sometime it picked up a residual electrical. . .he stared as the line started to waver on the screen before him, and shrieked as the sheet was desperately snatched away.

"I'M NOT DEAD!" Rodney's eyes were opened, panicked; his gasp deep, full, and scared. His voice was rough, and not quite his own. "God, don't! I'm not dead! I'm not dead! I'm not dead."

Carson stared for a moment as his medical staff rushed in. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed hard onto the floor.

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Carson woke to find Rodney stable, and dozing, and forced himself up, despite the protestations of Nurse Benning. He contacted Dr. Weir, who in turn assembled Sheppard's team together in her office.

Her large, expressive eyes carried something that Sheppard couldn't understand. He listened to the news, watched Teyla sink into a chair in disbelief, watched Ford slowly back to the wall, shaking his head, and launched himself out of the office, hearing his name fade behind him. He had to see for himself. Sheppard skidded into the doorframe of the infirmary, clipping his shoulder as the door hissed open. He ran to the bed, skidding again, nearly landing on the man he had come to see. Blinking didn't erase the scene before him, and yet it took some time to accept.

Rodney's face was slightly flushed. His breathing was easy, his eyelids flickering as he dreamed. Or, knowing him, he was performing some sort of mathematical computation that would lead to building a device that would save the station, or universe. . .and Sheppard broke into a huge, stupid grin.

Carson came up behind him, holding an icepack to his head. "Just can't keep that bugger down, can we?"

"What happened to him?" John turned, his eyes filled with excitement, narrowing as he noticed the pack. "What happened to _you_?"

"Let's just say his waking was a bit of a shock."

"You fainted, didn't you?"

"Passed out." Carson grinned like a fool.

"What happened?"

"I have no idea. He just woke up."

"He just woke up." John faced the sleeping form, then rounded on Carson. "You don't just wake up from being dead! That's. . .that's. . ."

"Impossible? Unlikely? Strange?" Carson shifted his pack. "Aye, I totally agree with you. But considering the alternative, I just as soon not question events too deeply, you understand?"

"You think Dot had something to do with this?"

"I don't know." He shifted uneasily. "Not sure I want to, to be honest with ya."

"Hey. . .trying to sleep here," Rodney muttered.

"Holy. . ." Sheppard leaned over, seeing blue eyes quint up at him. He almost laughed, such was his relief. He waited until Rodney's vision had a chance to clear, and made a conscious effort to hold back the flood of questions. "How you feeling?"

There was a faint moan, and Rodney cleared his throat. "Exhausted doesn't begin to describe this," he forced out in a rather gravelly voice.

Sheppard winced at the sound, and looked at Carson, who shrugged. "He was dead," was the doctor's only explanation.

"I was. . .floating," Rodney said softly, his eyes once again fluttering. A smile fluttered across his lips.

"What?"

"Saw. . ._everything_. . ."

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John still didn't know what happened. Rodney insisted that he had no clue; he no longer remember waking from the dead, and was accusing his friends of acute over exaggeration. Sheppard poked and prodded and was sent out of the infirmary for raising Rodney's blood pressure, but he couldn't help it. He was still floating on the proverbial cloud. After all, the man had cheated death in a way that no one else had. He was DEAD.

But not so much.

And that warranted some explanation.

And of course there was the question of whether or not his risk actually succeeded in sending Dot to hell, or heaven, or whatever passed. He no longer seemed to carry the rabid fear he'd housed for so long. His rest in the infirmary had been complete. Everything seemed to have settled down, but so as far as he was concerned. . .he'd see.

He stood just outside the gateroom, overlooking the moving sea. The skies were still intermittently grey, forcing him to wonder what storms were to come. He should take a jumper and fly the skies, see what was going on. He could feel a change in the air. His bones ached, the way they did when the pressure dropped back on earth.

Or maybe he was starting to feel his age.

Gripping the rail tightly John leaned over, watching the waves crash below. Yep, the waters were choppier than usual. Something was definitely up. "Hey." The voice startled him, and he bolted upright.

"Hey yourself!" Sheppard couldn't help but smile at the figure of a rested, rather robust looking Rodney McKay, clothed in loose jeans and faded t-shirt. "You look good! Feeling better, I take it?"

"I escaped imprisonment, if that's what you mean." He almost seemed. . .bouncy. . .more like the McKay that had first arrived on the station, full of anticipation. His lopsided smile was back, and it was obvious he felt better than he had in ages.

"He just released you?"

"Yeah. Thought you might be here, so I came to. . .you know."

"Well, it's a great view. Best on Atlantis." Sheppard watched the seas, feeling his friend arrive at his shoulder. "What is it with us and balconies, anyway?"

"Good meeting places." Rodney shrugged. "Good jumping off points if you like to swim." He eyed the water with disdain.

"Mm. If we're not careful, we might make this a habit." He didn't look at Rodney. "You know, it being a good meeting place and all."

"Best on Atlantis." He didn't look at Sheppard.

He didn't need to.

"How's the hand?" Rodney asked.

"Hurts. How's yours?"

Rodney raised his unbandaged hand, eyeing the slight scarring. "Think it'll attract the girls?"

"My experience has been, it's more what you do with it that matters."

"Oh. That's all right then." Rodney bounced importantly on his toes and clasped his hands behind his back.

There were no more words. They eased into the warmth of their companionship with leisure as they took their seats. Heavy boots propped on the rail. The wind carried the smell of salt, and puckered their skin. There were no questions, just a healthy appreciation of what was. For the first time in ages, they relaxed, sitting together, neither man budging until the sun set and the skies darkened.

Atlantis suddenly darkened with it, as the power outage blackened the city, leaving a starless sky.

TBC in Sea'scape Three (thanks so much for reading!)


End file.
